


The Story Begins

by Depressed_Ferret



Series: She-Ra 40,000 [4]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018), Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Anxiety, Astra Militarum | Imperial Guard (Warhammer 40.000), Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Children, Cults, Drugs, Fantastic Racism, Gangs, Girls With Swords, Girls with Guns, Gun Violence, Guns, How Do I Tag, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Sexist Language, Swords, Urban warfare, no beta we die like men!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:14:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 43,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27568081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Depressed_Ferret/pseuds/Depressed_Ferret
Summary: The story continues on Hive World Urthan, with Catra and Adora finding themselves in stranger and stranger events as time goes on.
Series: She-Ra 40,000 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994575
Comments: 76
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WOW! I'm sorry! I meant for this to be out way earlier than it did, but with work and life, it was hard to find any time to work. I promise I'll try and pump out these stories faster!

In the early hours of the morning, the artificial light of the lower Spire glowed dimly; a beautiful gradient of soft purples and vivid oranges in a wonderfully stylized imitation of a sunrise. This beautiful combination of vibrant and muted colors filtered through a pair of silk curtains, washing the room within in their tint.

It was this light that awoke Adora, bathed in its beautiful colors and very slowly blinking the sleep out of her steel blue eyes. In her bleary and groggy bout of wakefulness Adora’s eyes scanned to room, noting every blurry detail.

Then she gave an annoyed huff, turned around and just threw the comforter over her head.

After seeing the same light every day of her life, Adora only felt contempt for the artificial sun and it’s evil. The evil evilness to evilly ruin her dreams and tear her tiny form away from the comfort of her very warm bed. Were she an adult, Adora might throw a few vulgarities at her window like she’d seen her mother do a few times. It would probably result in a lashing, but some days Adora can’t help but think it would be worth it…..

_Mornings…_

**_Are…_ **

**_EVIL…_ **

The loud beeping of her alarm was something she could _not_ ignore, however. She’s tried… _It never ends well..._

With a weak groan Adora reached from beneath the covers, blindly swatting the air around her bed for the source of the noise. The search was in vain, but Adora was desperate to end it and avoid leaving the warmth of her blanket-cocoon.

_“Curse you,”_ she hissed groggily, poking her blonde head out to glare at the offending creature, _“I hate you so much…”_

The servo skull continued to beep, but in a slightly higher pitch, showing great joy that it’s mistress had finally awakened. The shrill, sharpened beeping caused Adora’s ears to ring, making her bolt upright with small hands clasped over her ears.

“I’m awake!” she cried, “Turn off alarms!”

The floating skull complied, ceasing all ear-shattering noise in an instant, replaced with the gentle humming of the anti-grav thrusters keeping the necrotic machine aloft. The soft blue lights of the creature’s various mechanical implants glowed in- _what was meant to be_ -a way to calm the person who gazed upon its otherwise off-putting facade.

That was also why it had a _“personality,”_ to help it seem more approachable.

Instead, it was the **_bane_ ** of Adora’s- _admittedly short_ -existence. The floating skull bobbed gently in the air as it observed her, waiting to complete any assigned task, _revelling_ in its success in tearing her from the _sweet sweet bliss_ of sleep.

_Evil skull…_

Knowing the consequences of drifting back sleep, Adora threw the blanket off of her small frame and crawled to the edge of her- _to her_ -massive bed before sliding off. She shivered as the cool air prickled her skin, and quickly set about getting dressed: A pair of durable grey trousers tucked into elegant black boots that ended just below her knees; hidden beneath a white ruffled dress that went down to just above her ankles, and a red jacket over top.

Nearly all of which was lined with gold, jewels, and reinforced to defend against blades and stub rounds. _“Safety doth not Nobility grant,”_ Adora believed the quote went. She probably got it wrong, never really enjoying biographies.

A new string of beeps caught Adora’s attention, turning to the servo skull hovering a few feet away.

With a flash of light the drone produced a single message, floating in the air due to the built-in holo projector, which read:

_“Come to my study, we have much to discuss before your journey.”_

A small frown pulled at Adora’s lips, brows slightly scrunched in distaste. She still had no idea why her father decided _now,_ of all times, to send her to visit some friends of the family. Especially since it was close to storm season, which usually barred citizens- _even Spire Nobility_ -from leaving the Hive unless absolutely necessary.

_Too many inheritance disputes, if she remembered correctly._

Regardless, she had agreed to it, and Adora was _adamant_ about keeping promises.

With a quick nod, she smiled and began the long walk to her father’s study.

…………………….

Once again Catra was out of her cave, slinking through the back-alleys and narrow cracks between structures, careful not to be watched as she slowly crept her way ever onward through the thick and polluted streets. The thick miasma of the underhive burned her sensitive nostrils, and clung thickly to her fur.

Her ears twitched.

She ducked without thought, instincts screaming as she threw herself to the ground. Not even a second later and the air above her was peppered with the bright white streaks of tracer rounds, the deafening crack of automatic gunfire made the Abhuman’s ears ring as she hissed in pain. The meaty impacts and gurgled cry of agony told her the autogun rounds found their mark.

“Bastard!” a woman cried, pained and gasping, followed by the shuffling of boots against plascrete. “Y-You _bastard!_ You killed Mihal!” she cried.

_“Fahk_ off, ya cant!” a man’s voice barked, rough and angry, with a promise of death. “Get ta _fahk_ out muh **_fahkin_ ** hab-block, you snivlin bitch!” he roared, the loud _crack_ of his weapon, and the dusty explosion of plascrete made his threat clear.

The sound of metal-reinforced boots sprinting on plascrete was his answer as the woman fled.

The man grunted, “Oi,” he barked, and Catra flinched, “Yeh, you! Lil mutt curld up like a dyin ret, ge up.” It wasn’t too hard to understand his accent, since Catra’s heard similar her whole life.

She _also_ knew that disobeying a pissed off Hiver with an autogun was a _really_ shitty idea.

With that in mind Catra slowly uncurled herself, standing up just as slowly- _get too jerky and you get shot_ -and turning around. The man was tall, standing nearly three times Catra’s own height, and built like he could crush your skull barehanded with _zero_ effort. His long coat was tattered with years of use and combat; red armor dented and paint worn down to the bare metal beneath, which covered his torso, shoulders, forearms, and shins.

Brown eyes scanned her small frame, “Weapons?”

She shook her head.

He frowned, slinging the bloody _massive_ autogun onto his back, he fiddled with his belt. Catra tensed, terror and dread filling her body before confusion took its place. In one hand was a small- _to him_ -stub pistol, with a holster and belt, and the other held a small folding knife, and two spare magazines.

“Kid like you shouldn’t walk around without a weapon.” he chastised, accent suddenly more refined and proper compared to earlier as he held out the weapons for her to take.

She eyed the weapons, and slowly made her way over to the behemoth of a man. After all, if he wanted her dead, he could’ve just filled her with lead. If he wanted something else? Well… That autogun wasn’t for show.

When Catra was within arm’s length, she gently took the belt and knife. The pistol, even though it was a stubber, was still rather large in the child’s hands, needing two hands if she were to properly aim it.

Gently pulling it out- _careful not to spook the_ ** _very_** _well armed man_ -Catra inspected the piece. It was large and boxy in design, with some chamfered edges at a 45 degree angle, others rounded to be held better. The slide had grooves cut in to help cock the weapon, with iron sights that glowed. Clicking the mag release, Catra discovered it was chambered in .50ae, and held seven rounds, plus one in the chamber.

_She wasn’t dumb enough to touch the safety, or check if it was loaded._

“Big round,” the man spoke, coming out as a low growl, “Not much kick.” he assured.

Catra nodded, trusting the massive ganger, and gently holstered the auto pistol- **_not_ ** _a stub pistol, like she believed_ -and set about attaching the belt to her waist.

The knife she simply pocketed.

“T-Thank you.” Catra croaked, voice choked up with nerves, she hoped she hadn’t offended the very generous- _and very dangerous_ -ganger.

The giant nodded, “Red Dawn shine upon you, child,” he bowed his head, making a gesture with his hand, “Don’t die, little Abhuman.” His tone was gentle as he walked away, leaving the small girl trembling behind him.

With just those words Catra’s blood turned to ice as she bowed reverently to this giant of a man, praying to the Emperor Almighty that he didn’t find her demeanor offensive. Didn’t decide to turn around and make her a _slave._

_Catra knew she wouldn’t be lucky enough to escape twice._

Her whole body shook with terror as she listened to the colossal man’s footsteps grow fainter and _fainter_ against the plascrete. When he was finally gone, Catra collapsed to her knees as bile spilled from her throat in horrible heaves, fat tears streaming down her cheeks and body quaking in quiet sobs as relief flooded her exhausted body. _“F-Fat-ther…”_ she reverently whispered through her sobs, hands weakly forming the Aquila as her forehead met the filthy ground. _“T-Thank yo-ou. Thank you, Th-Thank you…”_ she chanted, desperately clinging to those two words like a lifeline as she drowned in fear and panic, for she witnessed her own death and came out alive, and _Free._


	2. The Path Diverges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I tried to keep it even between both Catra and Adora, but this one turned out more Catra-centric that planned. I still think it's good.

Terror gripped Catra as she made her way through the streets of _The Dreggs_ . Her mind kept replaying the scene again and again, wondering- _begging_ -for some form of answer as to what happened. A member of _Red Dawn_.

 **_Red Dawn_ ** _._

Even remembering the _name_ makes her stomach churn, and she struggles to calm herself before once more losing what little nutrition she had. The memories kept flooding back, brief and faded as they were, they still brought _terror_ with each flash.

The feeling of burning ash and sand beneath her feet, blistering and cutting the pads of her sole.

The hot steel collar forced around her neck, choking her if she didn’t breathe just right.

The cuffs that bound her arms, rusted and scratching, drawing blood-

_A woman screaming “Run!” even as gunshots rang and her tiny legs carried her through alleys and-_

“Watch it, mutt!” a woman barked, blue breastplate weathered and beaten, baring the symbol of the _Dredge Spitters_ gang.

Catra yelped, and in her panic swung with her claws, hitting a thigh and drawing blood.

The woman screamed as she fell to the ground, and Catra _bolted_ away, weaving between stunned and confused onlookers. Some were also running, thinking it was some kind of silenced gun that got the ganger.

Catra didn’t care.

Catra didn’t care, and she wasn’t careful, too caught up in her mind. Caught in the emotions swirling around her head, the panic coursing through her body, and the sheer relief that _she wasn’t taken away._

All these conflicting emotions nearly made her vomit _again,_ and she only _just_ managed to hold back the bile slowly burning it’s way through her.

 _“C-Calm down-”_ she hissed, back pressed against the metal pipes that made up an alley wall, _“N-Need to c-calm-”_ again she gasped, _“C-cal-Calm-m-mmm…”_

Catra couldn’t breathe. She gasped, but nothing came in, it was like being choked; choked by the image of a red dawn rising over polluted waste. Her legs gave out beneath her, back scraping against the hard metal of the pipes as Catra spiraled deeper and _deeper_ into the pit of anxiety, terror and panic.

 _“H-Help…”_ she wanted to beg, _“An-nybody…”_ her voice didn’t work, throat too choked to function as she quietly sobbed. Her body shook and rocked as she sobbed quietly, breath finally coming in thin, narrow gasps.

……………………

The _click clack_ of sturdy boots against pristine marble flooring echoed through the mostly empty hallway as Adora walked on aimlessly, occasionally passing a servo skull cleaning something or floating off to fulfil some pre-programmed purpose. Adora cared not for them, for she hadn’t even noticed their existence, so lost in thought that she was.

Mind perplexed and thoughts muddled, the conversation with her father made no sense. Words spoken with double-meanings and half truths, instructions overly complex and hidden in seemingly simple tasks. All of it felt wrong. Felt like she was misunderstanding something.

Adora was remarkably smart for her age, but that was the crux of the problem: her _age._ She was still a child, and as such could not understand the subtleties at play, not make hide nor hair of the double-speak and half truths, not even see through the lies held within truth.

So many questions, not nearly enough answers.

It perplexed her to no end as her mind struggled and failed to connect the unspoken truths and see through to the hidden meanings.

She thought so much her head began to throb and ache terribly, nearly making her stumble as she leaned against the marble walls, letting the frigid stone cool her head.

Nothing made sense.

_And that scared her._

……………………

Catra wasn’t entirely sure where she was. The last few hours were a blur as she struggled to escape the terror that suffocated her very being. Her body still trembled, and her chest rumbled in a loud purr, soothing and easing the tension from her stiff muscles.

Catra looked around, finally noticing the unusual emptiness of the streets, the eerie quiet, did she know her mistake.

With a thundering _crack_ and a flash, the wall nearest Catra exploded in a cloud of shattered brick and dust. She shrieked, jumping away even as she felt her face getting cut by debris, only missing her left eye by a couple centimeters.

“Stay still, little Mutt,” a woman chided, amusement clear, “We wouldn’t want to see that _adorable_ head explode, now would we?”

Catra complied- _obviously_ -by raising her hands, even as she shook with obvious panic.

She could see the woman now, stepping out from behind a corner with a bolt pistol in her right hand, her left lazily draped over the pommel of her sword. She was tall, with bright auburn locks pulled back and held with a sort of circlet that Catra just _knew_ was more than decoration.

Her attire consisted of a pair of black leather tights tucked into sturdy, knee-high boots topped with metal knee pads, additional metal reinforcements made it clear the boots could crush her skull with ease. A crimson petticoat lined with gold came down to her upper thigh, no doubt hiding extra weapons, with black gloves that- _while elegant_ -seemed to have metal studs on the knuckles. Finally she wore a blood-red cuirass, ornamented in bronze and with a golden Aquila wrapping around the gorget.

The realization of just how rich this woman was filled Catra with dread. If she could walk around with such an ornate outfit and carry such an expensive weapon, _then what the fuck did Catra just stumble in on!?_

“So,” the woman smirked, boots clicking against the rockrete ground as she stepped closer, “What have we here? A filthy little underhiver? Or someone…” her eyes glint dangerously, _“Important?”_

 _“W-What?”_ Catra thought, mind racing, _“Me? I-Important!? How could she think_ **_that_ ** _!?”_

“I-I’m not!” she stuttered, “I’m not important, just gutter trash!”

The dangerous woman cocked a brow, amused, “Never had someone say that so quickly.”

Catra shrugged, “Put a gun to my head. I'll say anything.”

The woman smirked, “Say: _The Emperor is a shrivelled old corpse._ ”

“Fuck you!” she growled, eyes narrowed and fur puffing up.

The woman laughed, deep and hearty, nearly doubling over. “I like you, little Mutt.” she smiled, eyes filled with something Catra wasn’t familiar with.

“Most of these putrid Dredgers would gladly decry our Holy Father when threatened,” she admits, stepping closer, bolt pistol still trained on the child’s head, “They would _happily_ renounce all faith in the Imperial Truth, all for a chance to see one more accursed day.”

Now she’s directly in front of Catra, and the child remembers the terror; remembers the _fear_ . She trembles before this woman, this _powerful_ woman, and realizes she may die.

Mismatched eyes stare into tawny brown. From this distance, Catra could easily see the massive 16mm, diamond-tipped explosive round staring back at her.

“I wonder,” she hummed, finger never leaving the trigger, “Are you scared, little Mutt? Are you afraid of death?”

Catra swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Denounce your faith.” she commanded, smile gone, eyes deadly.

Catra closed her eyes, taking one last, deep breath.

_“No.”_

……………………….

Adora waved at her parents as the transport left, her father smiling, probably saying how much he loves her; her mother’s blue eyes were wet with tears as she waved, dirty blonde curls blowing in the wind of the vehicle’s engines. She watched with equally wet eyes as she waved back, the reality of the situation hitting her as the shuttle lurched with movement.

She stayed at the window until her parents were nothing but specks in the distance, and only then did she turn around.

The inside of the small shuttle was rather barren. Just a long, red leather couch that stretched into a U shape, covering three of the four walls: the two on the sides of the craft, and the one pointed towards the front of the craft. The only side barren of the leather furniture was the back, which held the exit hatch, and two decorative sabers hung across each other.

The white interior and grey floor made it seem a lot like home, which only made Adora feel _worse._

Adora stepped over to the right side of the draft, taking a seat there, and staring at the expanse of extravagant towers, cathedrals and villas of the Spire.

_From so high up, their villa looked tiny in comparison._

Adora let out a shuddering breath, struggling to hold back as her home grew further and further away.

Adora closed her eyes, desperate to not lose composure, and instead focussed on the constant _thrumm_ of the shuttle’s engines. It was a light craft, not meant for long-distance flying, and would never get her to Hive Vhasta. Instead, she will be brought to a facility outside Hive Nirah, and there she will board a train the rest of the way, off to meet some unknown individual of ill intent.

Her heart tightened at the thought, and a strangled sob tore from her lips.

Adora desperately tried to stifle her sobs, tried to keep whatever dignity she had left. Tried to not let the feelings of _disgust_ and _betrayal_ fester inside her any more than they already have.

Growing up, Adora had always heard stories of other Houses selling off children to other Noble families. For money, honor, marriage or prestige it didn’t really matter in the end. Her parents had assured her that Adora would never be like these children.

_So why did they lie?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I'll try to update soon, maybe around Thursday-Friday if work doesn't absolutely drain me of energy. I hope you all enjoy this, and I'd like to hear more of what y'all think!
> 
> Have a good one!


	3. Desert Cat

_ “Alright, lads!” _ a foreman cried, voice loud and booming over the cacophonous roar of heavy machinery,  _ “Get to diggin’, we’re burnin’ daylight!” _ There was a roar as dozens of men and women raised their tools.

The wastes of Urthan were truly something to behold: vast, endless desert as far as the eye could see, only changing in color to show any form of diversity between the different dunes. In the distance, the Hives stood out, hulking metal monoliths that sloped like titanic ant hills, gleaming in the darkened, polluted red sunlight. The endless seas of ash and sand also gave way to sudden, steep plateaus that gave respite to nomads and travelers alike.

To an underhiver who has never seen light that wasn’t from million-times recycled lumens, or the faint glow of burning timbers, the light of the sun-  _ filtered through a layer of polluted clouds as it was _ -was still blinding to the average Dredger.

Many of those who lived in  _ The Dreggs _ were forced to go without protective goggles, their retinas burning in the brutal light.

Catra was not one of them.

Mismatched eyes, gold and cyan, scanned across the plot of land, sectioned off by well armed and armored guards. Red, black and grey were oddly concealing in the orange-red hues of the sun, mixing with the ash and sand. Their gazes were on both the digging teams and occasionally on the outskirts, searching for thieves, nomads and raiders alike.

The crunch of ash alerted the feline to the presence behind her, even before the hand was gently placed upon her furry shoulder.

“How is it, little Mutt?” Marlena asks, ever-present amusement in her voice, “Anything seem familiar to you?”

Catra turned, and saw the visage of the very same woman who put a bolter to her head. Same decadent clothing, with fancy armor and expensive weapons; only the crimson jacket was replaced with a greatcoat that went down to mid-shin. To protect from the ash, Catra assumed.

Catra still had no idea what led her to this moment…..

…………………….

_ “No.” Catra spoke, absolute, eyes closed in acceptance. _

_ All her life, the Emperor was her only light. The only certainty she’d ever felt. The only  _ **_hope_ ** _ she’s ever had in this brutal Hell called life. _

_ She prayed in the mornings, giving thanks for the blessing of being allowed to live. _

_ She prayed in the afternoons, offering what meager gifts she could steal in His glory. _

_ She prayed in the evenings, thanking the Lord for His generosity and humbly begging He allow her to survive the next day without fail. _

_ She repeated day after day, only failing if she was too injured or weak to speak or move. _

_ Catra had only  _ **_one_ ** _ constant in her life. _

_ She would rather  _ **_die_ ** _ than lose it. _

_ So Catra waited for the shot, and to embrace the Emperor’s Light with open arms. _

_ Only the shot never came. _

_ Opening her eyes, Catra saw the woman, bolt pistol lowered, looking at the child with… Pride? _

_ The woman smiled, “My name is Marlena,” she said, “How would you like to have a job, little Mutt?” _

…………………….

After that, Marlena took Catra to a small Cathedral-  _ Catra was never allowed inside, so she burned every inch of those hallowed halls into her memory _ -before giving the child more food than she’s ever had, and a fresh pair of clothes. Not rags stitched together, but  _ actual _ clothes!

Catra’s never felt so wealthy in her whole life.

She vaguely remembers feeling unusually sleepy after the first meal, but when she woke up Catra felt better than ever: her muscles didn’t ache, her bones felt strong, and her stomach didn’t hurt from all she ate. In fact, she ate  _ twice _ as much as the night before.

It’s been a few days since she was hired by Marlena, but Catra can’t help but wonder  _ why _ she was here.

Maybe it was something about Catra that endeared herself to the older, more dangerous woman. Maybe it was her devotion to the Emperor that impressed her. Hell, maybe Marlena just found her amusing.

_ Marlena seemed to find  _ **_everything_ ** _ amusing… _

Catra shook the thoughts from her head, “No,” she answered, “I don’t remember anything from when I lived out here.”

Marlena frowned.

_ Catra’s heart  _ **_stopped_ ** _. _

“A shame,” Marlena huffed, “I was hoping this might jog a memory or two.” the woman then turned, raising a hand to shield her eyes as she gazed over the horizon. “Always had a fascination with you beasties. You  _ always _ manage to surprise me.”

That… Made absolutely no sense to Catra. Why wasn’t she hit? Where was the anger? She failed Marlena, so  _ where _ was the punishment? It made  _ no sense. _

“What?” Catra asked.

Marlena chuckled, “No matter how badly I threaten you animals, you never turn your back on our Glorious God.” she admitted, idly running her other hand through Catra’s hair, making her skin prickle and a content purr to build in her chest.

“You’re also adorable as all  _ Hell.” _ Marlena smiles as she scratches behind Catra’s right ear, the girl leaning into the older woman’s touch.

Catra herself felt…

_ Strange. _

Not a  _ bad _ sort of strange-  _ she thinks _ -but more like… Warm? Like when she goes too long without water, only with no muscle pain; but not hot like a fever.

The closest thing Catra could compare it to was when she prayed to her idol, or when she was curled up in her cubby. Like…

The warmth of a flame during the  _ Long Winter. _

_ What  _ **_was_ ** _ this…? _

Catra didn’t know a word for this feeling, but she liked it.

Smiling, Catra turned to Marlena to ask her something when a loud, blaring horn blew from the furthest edge of the group,  _ deafening _ to Catra’s sensitive ears.

…………………….

_ “Sandstorm!” _ a woman cried,  _ “M’lady, ‘tis a-” _

“I bloody heard you, you blasted  _ sow _ _!”_ Marlena spat, teeth bared and eyes thin slits of rage as she pulled the whimpering child close to her. She made sure to cover one of her large, fluffy ears with one hand, and press the other tightly against her coat.

Turning to the runner, Marlena drew her bolt pistol-  _ she didn’t like how the child tensed _ -and aimed at the idiot.

“Shut that off or I will  _ turn you into  _ **_paste_ ** _!” _ she howled over the growing winds.

_ The storm was approaching fast, _ Marlena noted.

The woman-  _ a menial only good as a runner _ -paled, terror in her eyes as she turned on her heel and  _ ran. _

Marlena let her.

Holstering her pistol, she turned back to the child now shivering at her side, whimpering pathetically in pain as her body shook in agony to the point her legs looked ready to give.

_ Marlena decided she would kill whomever activated such an alarm without **voxing** _ **_her_ ** _ first. _

She gently bent down, scooping up the poor kitten in her arms before slipping a pair of tiny machines into the feline ears. They were rather expensive things that cost several thousand Thrones to purchase-  _ but it wasn’t like she was strapped for cash  _ -that would expand in the ear and act like miniature vox-hailers. Fiddling briefly with the inside of her gorget, Marlena set her micro-bead to the proper frequency, “Better?” she asked, smiling softly to set the child at ease.

She wanted to frown when the kitten looked up with fear in her eyes.

“I-I-” she stuttered, “I’m-I’m sorry!” fear was almost literally  _ dripping _ from Catra’s voice as she almost began to cry in Marlena’s arms.

“ _ Hush _ little Mutt,” she cooed softly, running a hand through dirty, matted locks-  _ she felt infuriated with herself for not having the child cleaned earlier _ -hoping to calm down the panicked child, “Everything is fine,” she assured, “Are you feeling better?”

Currently, Catra could only hear Marlena and the ever growing wind approaching their position, so Marlena knew she wasn’t feeling the agony caused by the speakers.

When she nodded, Marlena gently set her down and grabbed a man-  _ a menial _ -that was running by her and held him in place.

“You see this child?” she asked, pointing to Catra.

The man nodded jerkily.

“Take her to my vessel,” she pulled the man closer, burning  _ every _ detail of his face to memory, “If I find so much as a  _ hair _ out of place, I will have you made into a  _ servitor _ , do you understand?”

He nodded fearfully, desperate to show his understanding.

For his sake, he better  _ damn well _ fucking understand.

Marlena turned to Catra with a smile, “Please follow this-”  _ worthless pile of shit _ “- _ Kind _ gentleman to my private vessel, would you please?” she crouched down to be at eye level, “You’ll be safe in there until I arrive, then we can move on to better protection from the storm.”

Catra nodded, earning an ear-scratch from Marlena as the woman stood, “Good,” she fiddled with the controls to Catra’s new mini-hailers, allowing her to hear other things again-  _ up to a certain frequency _ -so she might be safer.

_ Emperor protect whomever even  _ **_thinks_ ** _ of harming her Mutt. _

With a nod she left the pair behind, running off to find the lead foreman and see to the evacuation of the workers. Storm or no storm, Marlena had a job to do; and she’d be  _ damned _ if she just stopped before even starting!

…………………….

When she finally got to her vessel, a large, armored VIP shuttle modified with a pair of heavy bolters, and other such weapons, Marlena was beaten, bruised and her lungs felt a bit bloody. A servo skull politely slipped a needle into her skin, filling her veins with a  _ delicious _ cocktail of drugs,  _ perfect _ for healing such damage.

With a content sigh Marlena collapsed into a booth just outside the airlock, the drugs already swirling around in her system doing  _ wonders _ to mend the lacerations to her lungs.

And  _ fuuuuuuuck _ was she high.

_ “Kiiiiiiiiiitten,” _ Marlena cooed, a dopey smile on her face,  _ “Where aaaaaare yoooooooou?” _

Marlena felt like spending money.

Like an  _ ass load _ of money.

_ “H-Hey!” _ she gasped,  _ “Hey Kitten! How would you like a Gyrinx?” _ she giggled to herself, thinking of her Kitten, black and muddy fur snuggled up with a little blue Gyrinx kitten.

The thought made her high heart  _ melt _ with cuteness.

When silence was her answer, Marlena was confused.

“Kitten?” she called, “Where are you?”

More silence.

Her chest tightened.

“Kitten? Kitten, come out.”

Silence.

“Mutt?”

_ Silence. _

“Little Mutt?” she called again, louder, “Little Mutt, answer me! Where are you?”

_ Silence. _

_ Why is there silence? _

_ There  _ **_shouldn’t_ ** _ be Silence. _

“C-Catra!” she cried, weakly stumbling out of the booth and limping out of the entrance hall and into the main atrium of the shuttle. “Catra, answer me! Where are you!?”

**_Silence._ **

**_WHERE IS SHE!?_ **

“Sigma, report!” Marlena commanded,  _ “Report right now!!!” _ she  _ screamed _ , her chest heaving as she struggled to take in air, eyes darting everywhere, searching,  _ begging. _

A single servo skull floated up to the distressed woman, a glowing blue sigma carved into its forehead.

_ [what is thine query]  _ the necrotic drone requested, voice monotone and mechanical.

“Ship passenger scan!” she demanded, “Number of passengers aboard  _ Terra’s Vigil!” _

The sounds of her ragged hyperventilating boomed as the blood in her ears deafened her panicking, drug-addled mind.

_ [ship passenger scan: processing] _ it whirred as a  _ humm _ through the ship fed data to the advanced drone.

_ [ship passenger scan: complete] _ it answered.

_ [number of occupants:] _

Marlena held her breath-

_ [one] _

And released a scream of pure  _ rage _ and  _ anguish. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the chapter isn't longer, I decided to cut it there because it felt more dramatic. I hope this gives you a bit of insight into Marlena's character, and I'm happy you enjoy this! Love reading the comments, it makes me feel like I'm actually good at writing!


	4. A Chance Encounter

_“D-Damn!”_ Catra gasped, her lungs burning, her ribs throbbing and bruised. Gently putting a hand to her side before she loudly yowled through the rebreather, throwing her hand away from the sensitive bone.

 _“Probably broken.”_ she coughed, voice weak and strained.

She was stuck outside, the storm billowing and howling in every which-way and throwing ash, sand and other harmful pollutants. The larger grains of sand tore at her like shards of glass, her fur doing little to soften the blows; and the ash clogged them, sending a searing, _burning_ pain all throughout her body.

If Marlena hadn’t given her the goggles, she’d be blind.

If Catra hadn’t stolen the mask and filter, she would suffocate.

Though with her lungs battered, she could hardly breathe to begin with; and the storm was so thick she couldn’t see anything beyond a foot in front of her, even _with_ her catlike eyes.

What’s worse…

_With every blink of her eyes, Catra grew more and more exhausted._

How long has she trudged through this damnable storm?

An hour?

Two?

_Three?_

She did not know. All Catra knew was that the filter was growing weaker with every breath, and she could feel the toxic dust slipping through. Could feel it _poison_ her from the inside.

Soon she would be dead…

 _“Should’ve stayed in my cave...”_ she mumbled, her vision already growing faded and spotty; breath growing thin and weak as her small legs finally gave out.

The soft, ash-covered ground was not welcoming or comforting, as sharp rocks and shards of metal scratched, cut and stabbed at Catra’s already battered body.

But it was still comforting, in a strange, almost masochistic way; because it felt like her cubby.

The sharp rocks were the loose screws and bolts that would poke her in her sleep; the soft ash the old, faded rag she’s sleep on; and the oppressive head of the toxic vapors were like the pipes that would burn her during the _Long Winter_.

 _“Still…”_ Catra mused, as her eyes grew heavy, _“I wish Marlena were here…”_

And the last thing she saw was a large, skittering monstrosity, hidden within the storm and jaws drooling in hunger.

Catra hadn’t heard it through the howling of the winds.

Couldn’t see it through the torrential, swirling as and sand.

She wanted desperately to see Marlena, just one last time… The woman who has given her so much, and asked for very little in return. Wanted to apologize for failing her.

_“I’m sorry…”_

The beast lunged.

_And there was blackness._

…………………….

The beast lunged.

The cold flash of adamantine answered.

The beast reared back, black blood spraying as it _screeched_ in agony, one of it’s mandibles already being buried in the hellish desert.

With a quick flick of the wrist the blood was flung off the glistening blade, fluidly moved before the wielder in a ready position.

The curved blade sharpened to perfection, and more lethal than this feral _beast_.

The monster turned to its attacker, roaring in equal fury and hate, twenty beady black eyes focussed on its target.

Steely blue eyes glared back, cold and deadly.

The snake-like monster struck with a large, insectoid arm that ended in a sword-like blade meant to dig into the hard ground for purchase and doubled as a terrifying weapon.

The girl stepped to the side, arm swung fluidly as the saber followed the 4th cut- _bottom left to upper right_ -and sliced the creature’s blade from it’s arm.

It screeched again, swinging a second blade.

Adora shifted her stance, applying her weight on the front foot- _her right_ -and swinging the back foot- _her left_ -to better face the oncoming blade before swinging her arm up and to the left in an arcing motion, parrying the creatures blade before transitioning into a lunge with the front foot, slicing in a horizontal cut from right-to-left.

The adamantine blade sliced through the serpentine carapace and cut through the creature’s face, permanently blinding four eyes.

The abomination screeched and thrashed, writing on the ground in agony before roaring at the child.

Adora readied her blade, moving to a forward guard, blade angled in a diagonal in line that went from her left shoulder to right hip.

The beast flinched at the flash of adamantine, hissing in fear before recoiling, using it’s remaining limbs to shield its horrid face before it’s serpentine lower body took it away.

Adora stayed in her stance until it could not be seen through the storm, sharp eyes narrowed, searching for any movement.

After a tense moment, Adora collapsed to her knees, adrenaline crashing and breath haggard from nerves.

 _She survived_.

Adora couldn’t believe it.

 _By the Emperor on His Golden Throne, she’s_ **_alive_ ** _!_

A bunch of dog-sized rat lizard _things?_

Easy.

A huge bird?

Swing the saber around and it was scared away.

A fucking twenty-foot long snake with _sword arms!?_

Why not, right!?

 _“Adora, you idiot!”_ she chastized, _“Dumb, stupid, moronic,_ **_Neanderthalic_ ** _dumbass!!!”_

Sure!

Let’s fight a fucking **_SWORD-ARMED_ **snake!

That’ll be **_fun_ ** _!!!_

We can rescue the pretty girl, and _ride off into the sunset_ **_just_** like in all those story books!

Adora then smacked herself.

_Hard._

**_Multiple_ ** _times._

When she was done with her mini breakdown, Adora glanced at the girl she rescued. She was shorter than her, and thin, too. Her clothes were durable but rather cheap, with obvious signs of being bought, rather than tailored. The long red coat looked like it might have some form of reinforcement, too.

Wore the _oddest_ boots, however. They looked like a mix between human and cat feet, with claws, pads, and even fur.

Her black hair was dirty, tangled, wild and _dirtier_ than Adora had ever seen.

She would’ve cringed, if she herself didn’t _also_ look filthy as all Hell.

“Alright,” Adora huffed, adjusting her hastily-tied face protection- _an amateurish mix between a turban and a veil_ -and set about moving the girl out of the storm and into Adora’s shelter.

Which is to say, the wreckage of her shuttle.

Adora kept a firm grip on her saber as she awkwardly attempted to maneuver the girl with her left arm, desperate to keep her _only_ form of protection free.

In the end she was forced to sheathe her blade- _after wiping the blood off, of course_ -and lift one of the smaller girl’s arms behind her neck, so she could better carry her.

From so close, Adora noticed the damaged rebreather and the goggles that covered her whole face, but Adora could still make out the dark brown, near black skin underneath.

 _“Maybe a poorer House of the Upper Spire?”_ Adora speculated. Rich enough for her- _and most likely her family’s_ -pigment to be so dark, yet poor enough to not buy as much luxurious clothing.

Or maybe her family just didn’t see clothing as something to spend millions on, like most other families in the _Upper Spire_.

…………………….

The journey to the wrecked shuttle was slow, but thankfully not far.

Which was good, because Adora feared the girl may not last much longer, with how shallow her breathing was.

The thought of failing this girl _terrified_ Adora. All her training, her lesson, her _responsibility_ as a Noble taught her that she was born to _help_ people. Be they fellow Nobles, retainers, or even the lowly menial, it was her _duty_ to aid them.

That was the creed of House Alethros.

_Which made Adora’s betrayal all the more painful._

Adora brushed aside these thoughts, and instead focussed on the wreckage of the shuttle before her.

It was mostly the same as before, minus the blown off rear-right thruster and right wing.

…And the gaping hole in the nose.

 _And_ the massive metal spike impaling the cockpit.

………..

Okay, maybe it was a _bit_ fucked up beyond all repair.

But it _was_ safe, and the air was breathable, fresh, and _clean_ ; so it was the closest thing to perfect out in this blasted Hell.

Regardless, Adora punched in the door key, _leapt_ inside and slammed that fucker closed as fast as possible.

The cold air of the shuttle bit at her hot, sweaty skin nicely as she threw off her makeshift veil and greedily gulped fresh, _clean_ air.

Her lungs burned in satisfaction.

Remembering the beat up girl on her arm, Adora went into the lounge of the shuttle, gently laying her on one of the massive couches. Then she stepped to the middle of the shuttle, stomping on a hidden button.

A mechanical _hiss_ filled her ears as the floor began to open up, a table raising up. At the sides were dozens of drawers, each one filled with vital food, medicine, and other such commodities for _just_ such occasions.

Sifting through the drawers, Adora found the one with all the needles of various drugs and medicines. Adora grabbed two: a pain killer and a minor rejuvenator to heal whatever internal damage she had.

It was just a simple matter of rolling up the girl’s sleeves and-

Adora recoiled, shock and fear mixed in equal measure as she stared at the girl’s dark arm. Where Adora expected skin, there was fur, paw-pads and claws. With shaky hands Adora nearly leapt to the girl’s feet, raising the hem of her trousers, hoping to find some sort of seam to the _“boots”_ she saw earlier.

There was none.

Adora recoiled again, terror gripping her heart as a hand flew to the hilt of the saber.

“A-An Abhuman!” she shrieked, fear dripping from her voice as she desperately backed away. All her life she’s read about the vileness of the Mutant-

That they were the creation of the Arch Enemy, a malignant blight that turned their backs on the Light of the Emperor for the sake of their own vile evils.

That they eat Humans, and do _unspeakable_ things to women- though Adora was still too young to understand the meaning, it _still_ filled her with dread. _She_ was a woman. What would this… _Beast_ plan on doing to her?

Blue eyes glanced to the hilt in her hand, knuckles white with how tightly her hands gripped the saber.

_She refused to admit her hand was shaking, that she was terrified, that she was panting in terror._

Adora swallowed the lump in her throat.

The sound of metal dragging against wood filled her ears as the saber was freed of its scabbard.

She trembled as she stepped closer to the Abhuman.

Her muscles tensed as she readied to raise the sword-

The Abhuman coughed.

Adora froze, terror filling her heart.

The prone girl began to fidget, small hands weakly pawing at the mask and goggles.

Adora’s hands began to tremble as the Abhuman fiddled with her mask. What vile monstrosity would lie beneath? Would the monster speak some vile sorcery? Kill Adora with just a mere word?

She was frozen in terror, eyes stinging as tears welled in her steely gaze.

…………………….

Catra couldn’t breathe.

Something was wrong with the mask, and it was cutting off her oxygen.

Weakly she pawed at the deathtrap, desperate to free herself. When she couldn’t find the strength to lift it, she merely cut the straps.

With the suffocating machine of metal and rubber removed, Catra greedily sucked in the air, before immediately coughing her lungs out.

Why was the air so cool? Why did it taste so _clean?_

And why was it so bright!?

Throwing off her goggles, bleary eyes scanned the room, panicked and confused-

Her eyes locked onto someone nearby, and her breath hitched.

In her delirium, Catra saw a _Saint._

She stood over Catra, with golden hair spun from the sun itself; blue eyes that spoke of strength, yet no cruelty or malice; pale skin cleaner than anything Catra has ever seen on a person, even Marlena.

In her hand the Saint held a gorgeous sword, with a curved, single-edged blade and a fuller going down the length, with a simple guard that encompassed the hand.

 _She’s beautiful_ , Catra marveled.

In her reverence, Catra weakly made the Aquilla with her hands, and prayed before the world once more fell to darkness.

…………………….

_“Emperor bless…”_ the Abhuman mumbled before her eyes closed.

Adora…

Adora was confused.

An Abhuman praying to the Divine Father? That made no sense! Abhumans were the creation of the Arch Enemy, they _betrayed_ the Emperor!

……….D-Didn’t they?

Adora was so dumbfounded, she didn’t know how to respond. Her arms fell limply to her sides as she looked at the Abhuman girl before her. 

When she was awake, Adora saw that she had heterochromia, with a yellow and blue eye. Her face was distinctly Human, and if not for the fur, Adora thinks she would look _exactly_ like a normal person. She also had a pair of large, triangular ears on the sides of her head, which Adora has _no_ idea how she missed.

But most importantly, Adora notices how… _Pathetic_ she looks. Not in a derogatory way but-

Her face was gaunt and hollow with malnutrition, with thin limbs and partially atrophied muscle. She seemed to have some rejuvenation treatments recently, but not enough to be truly _“healthy”_ by any means.

All her life she’s been raised to believe Abhumans were monsters, creations of evil who practiced heretical worship.

 _“You were also raised to believe your parents love you,”_ her mind spoke, _“Taught that you should never lie, that you will protect those weaker than yourself, and stand as a faithful servant of the Emperor.”_

Yet her family lied about _all of it_. They sold her, shipped her off in an unarmored shuttle, and probably saw her as some prized beast to breed the next big alliance for House Alethros.

_So what else have they lied about?_

Adora looked down at the saber in hand.

She looked at the Abhuman on the couch, weak, injured, and praying to the Father.

Adora raised her blade…

...And thrust downward.

The guard loudly _clicked_ against the metal exterior of the scabbard on her hip, and Adora quickly set about grabbing the syringes.

After all.

It was her duty as a _true_ Alethros to care for this devout child of the Emperor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personal headcanon: The higher up you go in a Hive City, the darker your skin gets unless you have some form of technology to stop or dampen the UV rays of the sun. I just think that's a bit fun.
> 
> Also: The monster wasn't a Tyranid.


	5. A Cat's Saint

Adora decided to do a bit more than just give the poor girl some pain killers and a small dose rejuvenator. Rather, she decided to slip in a triage-IV tube, and slowly drip in a mix of rejuvenation and muscle-building drugs.

According to the packetin one of the bins, this was actually  _ very _ good for people suffering from atrophy and malnutrition.

Supposedly even the  _ Astra Militarum _ does this when soldiers return from long campaigns.

…………

_ Then again, _ she sweats,  _ This manual was published two-hundred years before Urthan was rediscovered….. _

Maybe this was a bad idea?

_ Oh Emperor! _ Adora panics,  _ What if I killed her!? _

She was an Abhuman, after all! What if all these medications weren’t meant for her people, and Adora just gave her an overdose!?

The poor child began hyperventilating, panic gripping her.

She’s never  _ killed _ anything before!

Okay-

She killed those lizard rat things, but that was in self defense! And she  _ still _ cried after it was done!

By the Throne, she was only ten standard years old!

She couldn’t  _ kill _ anyone! Especially not a child of the  _ Emperor! _

Adora gasped in horror.

_ “Oh by the Throne I’ve killed her!” _ she wailed, having a full-blown breakdown,  _ “I-I’ve killed an innocent girl! I’m a monster! W-What if she had a family!? What if she’s all that’s left and now there’s nobody left to carry the name and- and-” _

The sound of weak coughing interrupted Adora’s breakdown as she whirled around.

There, on the couch, was the girl. She looked better-  _ still weak, but better _ -and looking around, confusion and fear etched across her features as she scanned the room.

Adora rushed over, kneeling by her side in an instant.

“A-Are you alright?” she stuttered, worry and determination battling for dominance in her small heart.

The Abhuman turned to her, mismatched eyes hazy and unfocussed. She relaxed upon seeing Adora, the fear leaving her and replaced with an expression of awe.

Adora shifted awkwardly, embarrassed at being looked at in such a way.

Finally the girl spoke.

_ “A-Am I dead…?” _ she croaked painfully.

Adora reached over to a nearby thermos of water, pouring a cup before turning to the girl.

“Here.” she offered, helping the injured Abhuman to a somewhat upright position, holding the cup to her lips as she slowly drank the water.

There was a deep rumbling coming from the girl.

_ Was she purring…? _

_ “Th-Thank-” _ she coughed, “Thank you.” the girl smiled.

Adora smiled back.

“You’re welcome,” Adora replied, “How are you feeling?”

The girl tried to wince, but winced in pain and decided against it. “Hurts,” she groaned, and in a weak, almost timid voice whispers  _ “I thought there was no pain after death…” _

Adora cocked a golden brow, “Death?”

The girl nodded, “I’m dead,” she says, “I have to be. A monster was going to eat me,” with a weak wave of her furry hand, the girl gestures around to the downed shuttle, “And now I’m on my way to the Emperor’s side, to serve Him until the End.”

Ance again Adora was surprised by this Abhuman girl before her, for even when she went to temple, not a single Noble held such devout love for their Father.

_ Adora’s ashamed to admit it, but not even  _ **_she_ ** _ is close to as devout as this Abhuman girl. _

“What makes you think you’re dead?” Adora asks instead, turning away to pour yet another cup for the parched girl.

“Well,” the girl begins, a bit timid, “If I weren’t dead, how could I meet someone as pretty as you?”

Adora blinked.

She blinked again.

_ [Error Code 4439: Unit Adora Has Shut Down] _

_ [Please Wait While This Unit Reboots] _

_ [Blessings Of The Omnissiah] _

_ [ :-) ] _

“I’m-I’m- _ I’m sorry _ -”

**_“What???”_ **

“You’re so pretty!” the Abhuman says, as though that explains everything.

Adora is confused.

Confusion is Adora.

_ “What?” _

“Well, you’re a Saint aren’t you?” the girl asks, “You’re here to escort me to the Emperor’s side.”

………….

_ What??? _

“Nobody could have hair, or skin, or eyes as perfect as yours unless they were created by the Emperor,” the girl reasons, “So you’re a Saint!”

She beams, assured that her logic is completely infallible. As though she received a vision from the Emperor Himself telling this little Abhuman that Adora-

_ Adora! _

-Was some form of Saint sent to collect her.

**_ADORA!!!_ **

She followed and believed the Imperial Dogma, no doubt! She was no Heretic!

_ But she  _ **_also_ ** _ wasn’t devout, either!!! _

She failed! Sinned! Even accidentally  _ blasphemed _ a few times in her toddler years!

_ How could this girl get the impression  _ **_Adora Julia Alethros_ ** _ was some sort of Saint!? _

“I-”

Adora sighed.

“You-You  _ are not _ dead,” she begins, voice strained, “I  _ saved _ you from that monster in the desert, you did not  _ die. _ ”

The girl looks to reply but Adora cuts her off with a quick “I am not a Saint!”

That shuts the girl up.

…..And now her eyes are wet.

Her lips start to quiver as she covers her face with her hands, a shuttering sob shaking her small frame.

…..And now she’s  _ crying _ .

Adora knows she’s only telling this girl the truth, but-

_ “I-I-” _ she stutters through her hands, voice broken,  _ “I-I’m sorry! I did not mean to b-blasph-pheme!” _ she can barely get the word out, her sobs coming out stronger and violently shaking her small body.

Adora’s heart shatters as she stares at the injured girl before her, guilt stabbing at her heart like a dagger.

_ “What do I do?” _ she panics,  _ “How can I make this better!?” _

Adora’s never been the best at people.

General studies and fencing? She’s always had a knack for that, even when she was tiny.

But  _ people? _

She was never good at interacting with others.

….. _ Ever _ .

Uh-

_ Oh! _

Adora walked over to the other side of the girl, sitting by her head before gently lifting it and laying her back on Adora’s lap. The Abhuman paused, muscles tense and breath caught.

…………………….

Catra tensed, fear gripping her heart.

_ “What was this?” _ She wondered,  _ “I-Is she going to punish me for failing the Emperor?” _

Marlena warned her about other Humans-  _ though she didn’t really need to _ -that they would see Catra as wrong. As a mistake. As an animal to be hurt.

Some would hurt her just because they can get away with it.

So Catra was scared.

Scared this  _ Saint _ would hurt her, this girl who apparently saved her life.

She flinched when a small hand ran itself through her hair, fingers parting the tangled mess.

Catra was still tense, but slowly melted as the hands ran across her scalp, her cat instincts drawing a loud  _ purr _ from deep in her chest.

“There there,” the girl cooed above, soft, gentle, “You’re fine. You did nothing wrong.”

The fear returned, but it was weak, “B-But I-”

_ “Ssshhh…” _ the girl whispered, “You have not angered our beloved Father.”

Catra swallowed,  _ “H-How do you know…?” _ she whispered, timid and weak. She refused to open her eyes for fear of having this gentleness replaced with malice.

The girl hummed above her.

“I think you’re right,” she said, surprising Catra, “Maybe our Father sent me out to save you. Maybe we were fated to meet.” Catra can feel the girl shrug, “If He didn’t, I wouldn’t have seen you collapse, would I?”

Catra…

Catra was speechless.

_ Was the Emperor watching over her….? _

Catra felt the girl gently tap her hands, still covering her face.

She opened her fingers a crack, scared of what she might see, and found the girl smiling down at her.

“Feeling better?”

Catra nodded.

Her smile widened, “That’s good!” her hand never stopped combing through Catra’s hair, “What’s your name?”

“I-I’m Catra…” she purred, eyes fluttering when the girl scratched behind her right ear.

“That’s a pretty name,” the girl said, “My names Adora.”

_ Adora? _

Catra toyed with the name, sounding it out in her head.

_ “Adora…” _ she mused,  _ “That’s a pretty name.” _

…………………….

There time together was peaceful, relatively speaking. Adora would occasionally fill Catra’s IV drip with a concoction of drugs mixed with sterile water-  _ is that what it’s called? Sterile? Whatever _ -so that Catra could be healed. The Abhuman slept most of the time, the drugs knocking her out to do their magic, but when she was awake Adora found her…

_ Actually _ rather pleasant.

Adora explained some things to Catra she either didn’t understand or was confused about. Like how a tiny little mistake by a  _ child _ did not condemn Catra to eternal  **_damnation_ ** . Were that the case, none of Humanity would ever be welcomed by the Emperor’s side.

_ Catra still wasn’t entirely convinced, and Adora  _ **_swears_ ** _ she heard the feline mumble something about this being a “test.” _

She found out Catra came with a group to the  _ Badlands _ , specifically with a woman Catra only knew as  _ “Marlena.” _

Adora hadn’t heard a name like that before, so assumed she might be from one of the Upper Hive Nobility, but not from a Spire.

_ So a Ganger _ .

That left a bitter taste in Adora’s mouth.

Gangers were criminals who killed and robbed for money, their leaders too vital to be arrested by the Arbites or Enforcers. They were  _ bad _ people, and Adora wasn’t sure how she felt about Catra being near one of them…

“She put a  _ bolt pistol _ to your head!?” she screeched.

Catra nodded, fearful of Adora’s outburst.

Another thing Adora disliked, was how scared Catra seemed to be. Like she was expecting to be attacked at any moment.

_ Her chest tightens, and all she can think about is the sword forms. How best to cut, slice, and stab to make whoever hurt Catra  _ **_pay_ ** .

She blinks.

_ Where did  _ **_that_ ** _ come from….? _

Maybe being stranded out here, alone, for over a  _ week _ was starting to fuck with Adora’s head….?

The cycle repeats, day-by-day.

Catra would pass out from the medication, Adora would top her off, they would eat, then talk.

And with each passing day, Adora couldn’t help but think…  _ Why _ was she scared of Catra? She looked different, and was an Abhuman, yes; but the girl was harmless. A timid little ball of anxiety and fear that would curl up in Adora’s lap when she wanted the blonde to pet her, or scratch her ears.

She wasn’t some cultist, or tool of the Arch-Enemy.

She was just…..

_ Catra. _

It was rather nice.

_ And then it ended. _

…………………….

Adora smiled, listening to Catra tell her about a dream she had. It was about her past, something she apparently rarely remembers, and the dream reflected that. Just a vague feeling of warmth, and being held by a pair of strong, fatherly arms while a woman laughed.

Adora liked it when Catra smiled. It made her feel  _ happy _ to finally have a frie-

A loud  _ crack _ of gunfire ceased all thoughts as the window nearest the pair cracked violently, the thick glass bowing inwards and Adora could  _ see _ the bullet trapped inside the thick layers.

Adora shrieked in alarm as she was roughly  _ tackled _ to the ground, Catra’s smaller form holding her down, hands covering her head as shots  _ roared _ .

A veritable staccato of gunfire pounded the already damaged hull of the shuttle, the unarmored vehicle being riddled with holes as massive slugs tore through the relatively thin walls.

The hail of shots flew above both girls, some rounds only missing by a few hairs.

Adora held on tightly to Catra’s smaller frame, terror gripping her heart in a cold vice as she struggled not to howl in her fear. Desperate to not let her  _ friend _ be caught in the hail of death.

But Adora knew they couldn’t stay there, on the ground just  _ waiting _ to die.

She knew that their luck was thin, and sooner or later one of them would catch a slug to the brain.

_ Catra laying limp, blood splattered across the cold metal ground as shards of her skull scattered and graymatter smeared all around the interior of the shuttle. _

Adora’s mind stopped, her heart slowed, and the fear died. In its place was a cold, calculated hatred.

_ She would  _ **_not_ ** _ let that vision come true _ .

…………………….

Catra was used to gunfire.

She was used to being shot at, lethal rounds only missing her by a hair’s width as she ducked and weaved through the labyrinthine alleys and passages of  _ The Dreggs _ .

The fear always gripped her heart, sent a cold terror through her veins that burned hotter than the brightest flames of the many bonfires.

But the fear she felt now was different.

It burned hotter,  _ angrier, _ and she wanted it to stop. Wanted the gunfire, the bullets, the pain, the  _ everything _ to  **_stop_ ** .

Wasn’t she scared enough?

Didn’t she get hurt enough!?

So she shielded Adora as best she could, hoping that she might protect her new friend.

_ It had been too long since she last had a friend, _ Catra frowned, gritting her teeth as one round whizzed by her ear,  _ She didn’t want to lose  _ **_another_ ** _. _

The sudden push caught her off guard.

Catra yelped in alarm as she was flipped on her back; wide, fearful eyes staring into cold steel as Adora leaned close, “Stay near me!” she shouted over the roaring gunfire.

Catra was stunned.

A second ago Adora was clinging to her, terrified and trembling; and now she was calm, methodically crawling on her stomach, head down and avoiding gunfire.

She blinked.

_“I’m not a Saint”_ _my fuzzy tail!_

A tooth grin split her face as Catra flipped onto her stomach and crawled after her Guardian Saint.

_ Emperor be Praised and He shall Answer,  _ she mused.

…………………….

“Enough.” Sokari ordered, raising one hand while the other held the reins of his mount. All at once the gunfire ceased, the clearing around the shuttle growing quiet spare the sounds of the raider’s mounts.

Sokari smirked, fangs glinting in the sunlight, pleased at his men’s discipline.

With the flick of his wrist Sokari summoned three of his men. They were clad like all the rest: a pair of baggy sirwal tied at the ankle and wrapped with colored sashes at the waist which held blades, holsters or sword scabbards. Padded tunics were worn beneath sturdy flak armor, with the occasional bandolier of autogun or stubber ammunition; and lastly were the shemagh, worn to protect against the brutal storms of their desert home.

“Bring out the dead,” Sokari ordered, voice gruff and tinted with satisfaction, “Do not harm any still alive, we can sell them to the  _ Red Damn. _ ”

His raiders nodded, slinging their rifles off their shoulders and advancing towards the battered shuttle.

Sokari inspected the vessel. It was damaged by what looked like rocket fire, based off how the engine and wing were gone and slagged.

Then he and his men shot it the fuck up.

_ That was fun, _ Sokari smiled, running his padded hands over his new rifle

A fully automatic autogun with a ten-plus-one magazine that shot rounds the size of .12 gauge slugs, and had a truly  _ beautiful _ cherry-red wood stock and foregrip.

The joys of being a raider!

He was pulled out of his reverie by the screams of his men followed by the loud  _ pops _ of an auto pistol.

His men tensed.

_ Cowards _ .

They were fucking  _ raiders _ and they were scared of a few gunshots?

_ “Come on!” _ Sokari shouts, “Are you  _ Lo’Pali _ men, or  _ Carraca _ whores!? We shoot guns every day, this is no different!”

Fucking  _ idiots! _

Forget  _ every _ compliment he’s ever given them, his band were a punch of cowardly  _ women _ .

“Survivors on the shuttle!” Sokari hollered across the distance, “How would you like to do business today?” He subtly nodded to the raiders nearest him, signalling to raise their rifles.

_ Can never be too careful with potential merchandise  _ **_or_ ** _ victims. _

Sokari waited for the man’s reply, expecting some grizzled war vet of the Guard or Arbites.

_ “Karakat Hy!” _ a girl answered.

Not a woman.

A  _ girl _ .

Sokari scowled behind his shemagh, the idea of a  _ little girl _ demanding a  _ Karakat Hy _ was insulting at the least, infuriating at worst. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. The  _ Duel of Honor _ was a sacred affair, after all; and the tradition must be respected.

“Terms?” he asked.

_ “If I win, you will leave us unharmed, and our supplies untouched!” _

Sokari scowled, “Weapons?”

_ “Sabers!” _

“Rules?”

_ “First to forfeit, or be severely wounded!” _

Sokari cocked a brow, “Not to death?”

The raider expected some fear, or cowardice in the girl.

_ “I would not want to end the fight so quickly!” _

Red.

_ Sokari saw  _ **_red_ ** _. _

“Fine!” he leapt from his mount, marching out into the clearing. His men watched as he unslung his rifle and threw it to the ashen ground; then his pistols, his belts of ammo and finally his bandoliers.

“You want to fight, child?” Sokari growled, steel scraping against steel as he drew one of his sabers. The curved metal gleaming in the sun, bouncing off the main and false edges as he swung into position: left foot forward, right foot back and blade held to the right of his head.

“Then come and get taught a lesson on challenging your  _ betters!” _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't too sure about the length, but I liked where it ended. Hope you like it, too!
> 
> Love all the comments!


	6. The Duel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Blood, gore, and child violence.

Sokari took several deep breaths as he stood in the open, the hidden sun bearing down as he kept his stance: knees bent, feet wide apart with his body turned towards his forward foot; left arm wrapped around the front of his torso and out of the way while his right was bent and upwards, his saber held at a diagonal angle across his back from the right shoulder to his left hip.

He realized now that he let his anger consume him, made him brash.

In his defense, a fucking _child_ dared to treat him like some sort of joke.

Grey eyes narrowed, annoyance building in his chest as his opponent still hadn’t exited the craft.

He kept his mouth shut, however.

Idiots or not, it wouldn’t do for his band’s morale to see their leader start screaming at a _little girl_.

 _Killing_ a little girl on the other hand….?

Meh.

They’d done it before.

There was movement coming from the rear of the shuttle, the hatch slowly opening with a hydraulic _hiss,_ the door crunching against coarse sand.

 _Unlocked from the inside,_ Sokari noted. That’s why he and his men needed to shoot up the otherwise valuable craft: there was no way to guess the code to the door, and it was impossible to know how many day’s supplies were stashed inside.

His gaze sharpened as he saw the shadow of his enemy, stepping closer with each passing second.

She was small; and dressed in grey trousers, a red jacket and almost knee-high boots, all dirty from the storm, with the dried blood of beasts and fresh spatters staining her ensemble. On her left hip were two sabers, each with a deep curve, and straight L shaped guards that dipped into the hilts.

 _Either she’s planning to lose one,_ Sokari hummed, _Or she’s arrogant enough to think she can use both._

She was a child, couldn’t be older than twelve cycles, there was no way in _Hell_ she was experienced at anything other than playing pretend.

And her being a _girl_ only proved him right; women were not good at fighting with blade and mount.

Sokari smirked behind his shemagh, knowing this fight was already won.

Metal dragged against wood as the girl drew one blade, a dull sheen reflected off the sun’s light as she got into position: left foot extended with toes pointed forward, right foot back and angled to the right; left arm and blade held casually at her side with the blade angled outward, her right arm held tightly in the crook of her mid-back.

_An open guard?_

Sokari narrowed his eyes, knowing that stance. It was meant as a trap to lure inexperienced fighters into charging forward, only to be met with a swift parry or a deadly thrust.

 _Arrogance,_ Sokari decided.

Lunging with his left foot Sokari swung the saber around his head and twisted his body to deliver a strong strike to the girl’s unprotected side.

With a twist of her hips the girl moved her feet, turning to meet his strike and moving to block the incoming blade-

Sokari leant back as the blade flashed, barely missing his face as the girl lunged with lightning speed.

He barely had time to bat the girl’s blade aside before needing to step back, her aim focussed on his extended shin.

Retreating for a moment, Sokari was stunned. _“She’s fast,”_ he mused, reversing his stance with the right foot forward and his blade held to the left of his head.

He frowned behind the shemagh, cursing his idiocy. In his anger Sokari ignored the fact that the Humans in their precious _Cities_ taught women how to fight, like those weak _Carraca._

Clearly this one was trained-

And _damn good_ , too, though he’d never admit it.

Studying the girl again, Sokari noted the even rise and fall of her chest. _Not tired,_ he noted. Steel blue eyes were also focussed on him- _not his blade, but_ **_him_ ** -no doubt doing the same as he.

 _Smart little shit,_ he frowned.

She used her size to her advantage, and seemed agile enough to match him.

In a flash metal clanged as their blades meet, the girl blocking a sudden strike to her left before parrying with a stab which Sokari knocked to the side.

_Fast, but not strong._

Sokari pressed the offensive, attacking in successive horizontal and diagonal cuts as the girl parried and stepped back further and further with each lunge.

Sokari smirked, amusement filling his veins as he pushed the girl back with each stroke of the blade, no doubt exhausting her small form. Exhilaration ran through him as he put this arrogant _bitch_ in her place! The art of the blade belonged to _warriors,_ not little girls playing pretend with shiny sticks! There was no place for weak _women_ on the fields of-

 _“Aargh!”_ he growled as a burning pain exploded in his left shin.

Sokari glanced down, noticing the cut through his sirwal, he could feel the warm, sticky blood running down his hairy-

_Sokari glanced down._

Only when the flash of adamantine shone in his eyes did Sokari realize his mistake.

He jerked back, but not far enough!

He felt the sharpened metal dig into his face, starting at his left cheek, across the bridge of his nose and through his right eyebrow.

…………………….

Adora smiled beneath her scarf as she watched her blade carve a bloody trench through the man’s face.

She felt the air explode from her lungs as a heavy blow caught her straight in the gut, sending the small girl flying through the air before rolling around.

 _She didn’t notice his foot until it was too late_.

 _“Fuck!!!”_ the man roared, kicking at the ashen sand and swinging wildly in his fury, not the least bit focussed on Adora.

Adora gasped painfully, her stomach already bruising terribly and her chest burning. _“I-Is it broken?”_ Adora wheezed, hissing in pain when she gently poked one of her ribs, _“Is-Is this what a broken bone feels like….?”_

She wasn’t much a fan of this feeling.

Pushing past her pain, Adora forced herself onto her feet. The duel was still going, and she had a feeling the bloody man _might_ want to kill her after that last strike.

Studying her foe Adora saw the fresh hatred in his eyes as he loudly huffed in anger, and she could hear a rumbling growl building in his chest.

Glancing up Ador’s eyes briefly widened as she noticed the brown-yellow fur beneath his shemagh.

Regardless Adora got in position: Left leg forward, right foot back, knees bent, saber held out in front at a diagonal with the tip aimed for the man’s left shoulder and the guard pointed at his right hip.

Her opponent did not respond in kind.

Instead he stalked, pacing in a circular motion, blade held casually at his side.

Adora was forced to mirror him, slowly stepping sideways while trying to keep her feet from crossing, lest he take advantage and try to unbalance her.

On and on they circled, Adora growing more and more tense with each cycle, waiting for him to take the first strike-

He lunged!

Swinging in a wide downward arc he leapt, forcing Adora back as she attempted to parry-

_The blade turned to the flat, grinding against Adora’s edge as the thrust came closer!_

Adora leapt back, the tip of her opponent’s saber missing her by inches as she retreated.

But there was no respite as he dashed after her, swinging wildly in every direction with a force that Adora’s tiny frame could barely match-

 _She hissed as the blade sliced along her upper bicep_.

It wasn’t deep, but it hurt like-

_Clang!_

She barely had time to block a strike from the opposite direction, distracted with the cut-

Her left cheek exploded in pain as the world was suddenly spun, black dots dancing in her vision as she was knocked to the ground.

Adora spit.

_A bloody tooth lay before her on the ashen desert floor._

Her vision spun as she tried to shake the dizziness from her eyes.

Glancing back at the cat-man, Adora saw him wiping blood off the back of his left hand.

Reaching up, Adora felt her cheek, and hissed when her fingers found a bruised cut.

The man raised his blade, “Get up.” he growled, threatening her with the tip.

Adora shakily pushed herself-

An impact to her side sent her sprawled against the ground, her side burning and her lungs violently coughing in an attempt to suck in air.

“Get up!” he barked, kicking her again when she failed, “Where’s all that fire, huh!?”

Another kick.

“You were spouting all that tough shit a few minutes ago!”

Another.

“Where’d it go, huh!?”

Another-

Adora swung, using the momentum of being kicked to increase the strength of her cut.

Blood sprayed as the man’s saber clattered to the ground.

_Along with four fingers._

He _roared,_ gripping his hand in a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood as he thrashed around, cursing up a storm.

Adora smirked, _That’s for the tooth._

“I-I-” Adora coughed, weakly shuffling to stand on shaky feet, “I _win._ ”

The man ignored her, too caught up in his own agony.

“I win!” she hollered, “T-That means you have to go!”

Taking a breath she stood taller, more refined despite her pain, “By the rules of the _Karakat Hy_ : I, Adora of Alethros, demand you-”

A deafening _crack_ filled her ears, and an explosion of pain forced her on her back. A pained scream tears from her lungs as she clutches her leg, a new, burning hole makes itself known.

Her hands weakly push on the bloody hole in her shin, desperate to stop the bleeding as fat tears roll down her cheeks and mucus pours out her nose. This isn’t the fake, pretty-crying she’s seen on holo-vids; it’s real, horrible and _ugly_ as her body shakes in massive sobbing shrieks of agony.

It hurts.

It _hurts._

_It hurts!_

_It Hurts!!_

**_It Hurts!!!_ **

**_IT HURTS!!!!!_ **

**_“SHUT UP!!!”_ ** the man roars, running over to kick her again.

And again.

And _again._

 _And_ **_again_ ** _._

“Shut the fuck up you stupid _cunt!!!”_ he’s screaming now, “I was going to ransom you back to whatever _rich_ fucking family you have! Let you off with a slight beating!”

He kicks her again.

“Instead!” he laughs, broken and mad, “I think I’ll just fucking _shoot you!”_

Adora can barely make out the sight of his stub pistol swinging to face her, but she can see the glint of the silvery metal as the barrel looms over her. Even through the tears choking her eyes she can see the furious, maddened tint of his eyes as he starts to pull the trigger.

…………………….

A gunshot.

A scream.

The thud of kicks on a small body.

The sound of mad cackling.

 _The feeling of razor-sharp claws gliding through flesh, muscle and bone like they were nothing_.

Catra wasn’t even aware she was attacking the man until her back hit the desert and a foot smashed against her face.

One second, Adora- _Her_ **_Saint_ ** -was winning. She had struck three blows, and only gotten a few hits! She’d been _winning!_

She’d **_won_** _!_

And then Adora was _shot_.

She must not have seen the lies, the deceit in the deal he never agreed to. But it made sense, of course! Adora was honest, she never lied. Why would she? A being of the Emperor would not know deceit, for she was a being of Divinity.

And then he shot her.

_And then he shot her!_

_AND THEN HE SHOT HER!!!!!_

So in a blind rage Catra struck, legs kicking and claws flailing, cutting cloth, flesh and scratching armor alike.

And now here she was, on the ground, a foot that moved from her face to her neck, holding her in place.

“What the _fuck_ is _WITH TODAY!?”_ the bastard screamed, his left eye a bloody, gelatinous mess as he clutched it tightly with the stumpy palm of his right hand.

“Do you have _any_ fucking idea-” he applied pressure on Catra’s neck, making her struggle, “-How _FUCKING_ expensive augmetics are!?”

He briefly let off Catra’s windpipe only to kick down hard on her ribcage, snapping a couple ribs. The small feline screaming in anguish before being silenced by the foot back on her windpipe.

 **_“SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!”_ ** he roared, “Shut up or I swear to the **_Gods_ ** I will fill you full of so much lead, you might as well be a _statue!”_

He was wheezing now, breaths hard and labored.

Slowly he turned the gun on her, and Catra snarled.

 _She’d be_ **_damned_ ** _if she felt anything but_ **_hatred_ ** _for this cowardly fuck!_

“You know what?” he asked, _“Fuck it!”_

He laughed, pained and mad, “Fuck it!!!”

Slowly his laughter turned beyond psychotic, and into full blown hysteria.

Catra felt no fear.

She only struggled with her arm.

“I’m going to kill _you!”_ he pointed his stub pistol at Adora, “And then I’m gonna kill your _friend!”_

He leaned low, showing the madness in his eyes, a swirling blackness that hurt her eyes.

_“How’s that sound?”_

Catra smiled.

She pulled out her pistol.

His maddened eyes widened briefly.

“Fuck you.”

Catra felt the vibrations in her hands, the kick as the bullet exited the chamber; and like in slow motions, she saw as it turned his head into a geyser of blood, bone, and grey matter.

She rolled to the side as the body fell limp, dead and headless.

And she _smiled_ as the other raiders raised their guns to fire, only for the roar of engines to drown them out; and from the heavens descended a great bird of steel and death.

The deafening _roar_ of heavy bolters tore the would-be murderers to chunks on flesh.

Catra's smile turned predatory as, over the staccato of heavy gunfire, she roared:

_"AND I AM THE MASTER FOR I RAIN FIRE, DEATH, AND SHOOT A GUN THE SIZE OF A **FUCKING** CAR!!!"_


	7. Cold

Adrenaline pumped violently through her veins as she trembled in excited, anxious glee. The thunderous, near-deafening symphony of the 88.9mm heavy-bolters tore the small horde into nothing but mush; blood sprayed in sanguine geysers, bone exploded shrapnel and viscera flew like gory petals in the wind. Catra has never seen such brutal, disgusting violence since the last purge; but _damn_ was it gorgeous when you weren’t the one getting shot at!

 _Truly_ a gift of the Emperor, for only _He_ could make explosions so fucking **_epic_** _!_ _!!_

 _Abhuman or not, what child_ **_doesn’t_ ** _love explosions?_

The weak, pained whimpering drew Catra from her adrenaline high, guilt and shame tearing at her chest as she rounded on her fallen friend.

Mismatched eyes widened in horror, Catra scampering over as fast as her limbs could take her, knees painfully skidding along the desert as she leant over the broken body of her friend, seeing the damage up close. Adora’s smooth sandy complexion was replaced with a sickly ashen pallor that made Catra’s chest clench. Her eyes were hazy, dim and unfocussed, lolling about in random directions; her chest rose and fell in short, jerky breaths that seemed to make her trembling even worse; and she was in a cold-sweat.

“A-Adora!” Catra cried, voice hoarse and worried, “Adora! C-Can you hear me!?”

Blood bumped in her ears, drowning out even the roar of the heavy cannon overhead, fear and panic raging in Catra’s tiny form.

Adora whined pitifully in response, tears streaming down the sides of her face, _“H-hu-urt…”_ she whimpered, so low even Catra’s ears could barely make out her words.

Clawed hands trembled, rushing to Adora’s shin, ripping at boots and the leg of her trousers to better see the damage, nearly gagging at the sight.

 _“Messy”_ does not begin to describe the bloody, torn and mutilated flesh of her left shin. The only miracle was that the bullet missed the bone, sparing her the loss of her leg.

_Right?_

Catra sweat, cold and clammy as she pressed her paws against the hole.

_R-Right…?_

Catra swallowed the bile slowly climbing up her throat, panic only worsening her trembling.

_She-She’s a Saint, so she can’t lose her leg!_

It wouldn’t stop.

_She can’t bleed out!_

It won’t stop.

_She’s-_

It won’t stop it won’t stop it won't stop-

_She’s Adora! She can’t die!_

ItWon'tStopItWon'tStopItWon'tStopItWon'tStopItWon'tStopItWon'tStop-

“H-Help!” she cried, head spinning as she searched for the shuttle, begging the Emperor Almighty for a miracle.

“Someone!” she hoped.

“Anyone!” she pleaded.

 _“Please help her!!!”_ she begged.

 _”C-Caa…”_ Catra’s head turned so fast there was an audible _snap,_ eyes sharp, pupils slit and terrified.

Hazy blue eyes met with gold and cyan, filled with pain and terror respectively.

 _“Cat-”_ Adora wavered, eyelids fluttering and sending a spike of panic through the feline “Adora!” Catra cried, voice broken, “Stay awake!” she commanded!

The injured girl did not listen, and slowly-

_No!_

-Her steel blue eyes-

 _Nononono_ **_NO_** _!!!_

-Fluttered shut.

Her body went limp.

“No!” Catra cried.

_“No!!!”_

Her breath came in shallow, ragged breaths as she struggled to not break down sobbing as she bowed low, nearly resting her forehead on Adora’s shin as she continued to apply as much pressure as her tiny paws could handle.

And prayed.

 _“O-Oh Fa-ather on your G-Gold Throne, I beg of you, spa-are this Angel.” her voice broke, “Please, I beg you, d-do not take her, because she is good, and kind, a-and th-he only friend-”_ The sob tore from her throat, and broke the dam.

Her chest heaved as she cried, and cried, and _cried_.

A failure, who couldn’t even save her only friend.

 _“Ooooooh,”_ a voice cooed, deep and distorted from a mask, _“Fear not, little child, for thine prayers hast been answered!”_ the jovial man chuckled.

Hope blossomed in Catra’s chest.

_The shuttle!!_

It must be one of Marlena’s men!

They found them!!!

Catra lifted her head, the image of men clad in red, grey and black clear in her mind. They would be there to rescue her and Adora, and then they could go back to Marlena and-

Mismatched eyes widened.

Her body paled beneath her blackened, muddied fur.

The trembling that wracked her frame tripled until she was seizing in a full-blown panic.

The man before her was tall, wrapped in greens, blacks and browns. Dirty bandages wrapped around his rail thin limbs, rotten and diseased. Horns and spines jutted from his body seemingly randomly. A respirator was _fused_ to his skin, with a fleshy tentacle connecting to a series of tanks on his back.

The left side of his face had a single green eye.

_The right had three glowing yellow._

He stepped forward, and Catra was assaulted by a stench so fowl she couldn’t breathe, like the air itself was suffocating her.

 _“I’m sorry to say, that the false_ **_Corpse-God_ ** _has remained silent,”_ he chuckled, kind yet distorted in an unnatural way, _“But not to fear, little one!”_

_“For Grandfather Nurgle has heard your plea.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get Heretical~
> 
> And sorry for the length, I didn't like how the first draft went, but I didn't want y'all to wait almost a week to get an update.


	8. Chapter 8

_Choked sobs shook her tiny frame, fat tears rolling down her eyes as she gazed out over the expanse. The Wasteland. The place she begged Miss Tolvasta to teach her about the day before._

_Did she know?_

_Why? Why was this happening? What had Adora done to be sold like some-_

_Her teeth ground together._

_Some-!_

_Nails dug into her palms, threatening to draw blood._

_Some piece of_ **_fucking_ ** _chattel!?_

_Grief was replaced by rage, deep and burning._

_Why!?_

_She did everything right!_

_The memories flood back: every injury from sword practice, every beating by her instructors, every lecture on having one hair out of line and_ **_every_ ** _verbal abuse she’d ever received._

 _Adora was the_ **_perfect_ ** _daughter!_

_Adora had done everything asked, commanded and demanded of her!_

_She could almost feel her teeth start to_ **_crack_ ** _with how hard she was gritting her teeth as the rage burned, hotter and hotter with each passing thought and memory._

 _Every “I love you” was now judged, every “good girl,” “well done,” and “I’m proud” weighed; and every “I promise” was found_ **_false_ ** _._

_White hot, burning wrath filled her veins._

_“Dammit!” she roared, slamming her fist into the window._

_A thundering BOOM filled her ears as the shuttle violently shook, nearly sending Adora flat on her ass._

_She blinked._

_Turning around, she spied a gaping hole in the rightmost wing, metal twisted, torn and slagged as bits and wires flapped uselessly in the wind._

_“BRACE BRACE BRACE!!!” came the shouted commands over the hailer, the pilot relatively calm despite the situation._

_And from the ground Adora saw it._

_Like in slow motion and with wide eyes she saw the beam as it shot from the ground, a massive blue bolt of death, and seared through the rightmost rear thruster of the shuttle._

_It was like a plasma cutter going through tissue paper._

**_Zero_ ** _resistance._

…………………….

_“Hah!”_ Rork smiled joyously beneath his mask, the wondrous, noxious spores filling his necrotic lungs with delicious toxins and bacteria. His four eyes looked on with amusement as their rescued charge jumped and ran about, claws flashing as she yipped and howled.

_Or was it hiss and roar?_

He couldn’t tell, honestly.

Rork was never really an animal person, and the local fauna changed with every world untouched by the _Grandfather’s Blessings._

Uncorrupted, and weak.

Just the thought threatened to bring a tear to his many eyes!

Oh, how the people of this world _suffered!_ Their immune systems were weak to the many _Blessings_ of the _Rot-God_ , and pain destroyed what little hope they would have of leading full, enriched lives!

“Adora!” their charge screamed, panic and _fear_ tainting an otherwise beautiful voice.

 _Alas,_ Rork sighed, shaking his head.

 _“Sweet child,”_ Rork soothed, holding out his arms in supplication, _“Why do you fear us so?”_ Surely bearing witness to the glory of Nurgle would do naught but show this poor, _misguided_ child of her folly? Granted, his spikes and bone spurs _were_ rather unsightly, so perhaps that was the case for her terror.

_That would need to be fixed._

Their charge turned away from him, hiding her face against the cool metal of the shuttle’s _assuredly_ **_pure_ ** _walls!_

_Rork sneered at the fallacy that was “cleanliness.”_

She shivered, and shook with fright. Even with his one bloated, pus-filled ear he could make out the quiet sobs and the whispered blasphemies against the _Rot-God_.

Rork felt no anger, nor malice towards this young heretic, for she knew not the errors of her ways. To be angry at ignorance was to encourage ignorance!

It was like spanking a child for saying the sky was black when all they’ve seen is the abyss that is the Underhive: it was cruel, and only _emboldened_ the ignorant!

And Nurgle- _oh sweet, benevolent Plague Father_ -was not some cruel, malicious brute like the followers of Khorne.

He shivered in disgust and- _very briefly_ -disdain as another such _brute_ came to mind.

 **_Nor_ ** were they like the foul, horrid little _lust-fiends_ of the dreaded rapine obsessed narcotic inhaler that was _Slaanesh._

_Just thinking the name filled Rork with horrid disgust._

No!

Nurgle was not some brute that would force enlightenment like those _barbaric_ cults!

It is through His _love_ that the joys of disease are spread!

And that is exactly what Rork will show this poor, neglected and _indoctrinated_ blasphemer!

For _she_ deserved the Grandfather’s love _just_ as much as anyone!

 _“The Corpse God cannot hear you, young one,”_ he crept closer, slowly as to not frighten the poor thing, _“Rejoice, that the Warmaster slew that malicious evil!”_ Rork sighed happily in remembrance of the ancient tales of the _Corpse God’s_ defeat.

The girl did not seem to share his optimism, as she curled further in on herself, her sobs growing in distress.

 _Bloody buffoon,_ he reprimanded, _She still clings tightly! Do not chase her off!_

That was _his_ mistake.

Push too hard and you get nowhere.

 _“I am truly sorry, child,”_ cooed Rork, kneeling to one knee- _he didn’t want to intimidate the poor thing_ -and speaking in a softer, _less_ distorted tone of candour, _“I intend not to shatter thine vision of serenity; instead I merely seek to bring you enlightenment!”_ he coughed, _“I wish to let you know that there need not be pain, and suffering!”_

One large, triangular ear twitched.

_Got her._

He smiled.

 _“How does that sound, child?”_ he asked, _“To be rid of such horrors as pain, and grief, and_ **_anger_ ** _! Why-”_ a hearty laugh bubbled from his toxic lungs, partially wheezed through one of the many holes in his neck, _“I used to be consumed by anger!”_ Rork admits solemnly.

It was not a portion of life he was proud of.

Slowly the girl turned, a single cyan eye peeking through the matted tresses, wet and scared.

But Rork saw it!

A glimmer of hope could be seen, faint as it was, he could _still_ see some home in her gaze!

_“I was a man consumed by the corruption of the Imperium, of the lust for power it stirred within me.”_

With a deliberate slowness Rork shuffled closer, eyes locked on the single blue of his charge. He watched as she flinched, but did not shy away.

Progress!

_“But I was shown the light, dear child! The light of the Plague Father!”_

She shied away.

 _Tone it back_.

 _“For you see,”_ he said, much softer than previous, _“I was filled with the sickness of my planet. Radiation poisoning,”_ he explained, _“From the hundreds of thousands of millions of nuclear arms my home produced, our people were poisoned! All for the profit of some Planetary Governor who preached about how the Emperor Protects.”_

Rork suppressed a scoff.

Too much aggression might scare her off.

_“And then, lo and behold: The Plague Father came to us! Delivered us from our pain, misery and blight.”_

Arms wide, he smiled, _“While His gifts seem rather monstrous, I assure you it is well worth it to serve a_ **_true_ ** _God.”_

Finally he was close to her! She could see that, beneath the initial scariness of his visage, he was _pure_ in his intent!

To raise her from her station!

To deliver hope where there is naught but pain and suffering!

The girl fidgeted, curled against the wall, but slowly- _ever so slowly_ -she turned to Rork, and he could once more see her other golden eye.

She hesitated, scared.

Rork understood, of course. He’d been exactly where she was, scared of the truth, and of receiving help from _true_ Divinity.

 _“Come now,”_ he encouraged, _“I shall not harm you, sweet child. Come to Rork, little one!”_

He waited, patiently, for her to come to him.

He could see the fear in her eyes, the trepidation, the feelings of _what if?_

Slowly she reached out a single, trembling hand.

Rork smiled, and reached to take her hand. He would guide this poor, _poor_ child in the ways of truth.

There would be no more fear, or pain under the diseased, toxic watch of the _Plague Father_.

The girl smiled, small and timid, the hint of fangs glinting in the light of the shuttle.

And in a flash her claws extended, carving four deep, jagged trenches through his face and mangling his three mutated eyes.

He blinked- _or was it winked?_ -with his one remaining eye, shock and surprise filling him in equal measure.

 _Huh,_ he huh’d.

_Didn’t see that coming._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the length, I just HAD to end it on that joke.


	9. Chapter 9

Sharp, clawed toes dug into the thin metal of the shuttle floor, propelling the small feline past her monstrous captor in a mad dash to the doorway he’d blocked earlier.

“Adora!” Catra cried, fear and desperation filling her voice as she slammed into the door. The impact left Catra flat on her back, the air knocked from her lungs as spots danced in her vision.

How-

The door was opening just fine for the monstrous man behind her!

_ Why!? _

Why wasn’t it working now!?

_ “Ha!” _ Catra’s blood turned to ice as a distorted, filtered laugh filled the room.

_ “Hahaha!” _ the sound tore at Catra’s ears, screeching louder than anything she’s ever heard in her short life.

_ “Oh ho! Ha!!!” _ She clamped her hands as tightly over her ears as she could, a warm, sticky wetness staining the pads of her hands as blood lightly trickled out of her poor, sensitive ears.

_ “Oh my, little one!” _ the monster sighed, faint laughter still bubbling from the abomination’s rotten, corpse-like form.

Catra glanced through the tears in her eyes.

_ She wishes she didn’t. _

_ By the Emperor she will never forget it. _

The dripping, gushing wound of his mutilated face began to blister and boil; exploding with pus and rot.

The foul stench was as horrid as it was unnatural, burning her nose and sending a sharp, throbbing pain through her skull that felt like it was expanding, ready to burst.

And his  _ skin! _

Mangled, malformed flesh began to sizzle and melt and drip like a thick, bloody soup that dribbled down it’s mask; muscle rotted and festered into a gelatinous goop that clung thickly to it’s horrid facsimile of a face; the bone  _ cracked _ and  _ snapped _ as is less chipped itself, and more like forced itself into a new position, compressing organs underneath with the sickening, abhorrent slopping of juicy, bloated and infected membrane being altered beyond reason.

Where once there were four thin, deep trenches through the abomination’s skull, there was but one large hole; the size of a clenched fist and just as deep.

Then a thick, white, slimy and pus-like fluid began to swirl around inside the hole; twisting and swirling with a darkness that only promised madness and cruelty as the new flesh began to solidify!

A massive, repulsive sack of flesh had grown in the hole, decaying into a sickening shade of yellow that hurt to look at and made Catra hear dark whispers of a sick nature.

Her body had enough.

Bile shot from her throat like a bullet, coating the front of her clothes in filth and sickness as fat tears rolled down her eyes, lungs burning as hard sobs wracked her small frame.

_ “I thank you for this truly  _ **_marvelous_ ** _ new edition, Child!”  _ the monster laughed, cruel and mocking to her ears as she weakly clawed at the door.

She was going to die.

She was going to die, and there was nothing she could do.

_ Why? _

Why was this happening….?

_ Why….? _

_ “Oh,” _ the monster cooed, boots clicking against the metal floor,  _ “There is no need to fear, Child!” _

_ Please… _

_ “The Rot-God will make you like me!” _ it promised, a dark, unnatural wheeze of a laugh escaping the holes of its neck.  _ “You shall know no injury, no pain, and no fear.” _

_ Someone… _

The boots were getting closer, and her whimpering only grew in volume.

_ “You will be granted the gifts of a  _ **_true_ ** _ God!” _

_ Anyone… _

How? How could she be so  _ weak? _ How can she not even protect herself!?

_ “Grandfather Nurgle will welcome you with open arms, sweet child.” _ it laughed darkly,  _ “He cares not for your deformity, for he welcomes all into his Blighted warmth!” _

_ Please save me… _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally I'd apologize for the length, and the lack of uploads, but I'm gonna level with y'all. I'm sick as Hell, and this is the most I could pump out. So, until I get to feelin better, quality may drop.
> 
> Sorry, y'all.


	10. Sermon of Despair

Oh, how pleasant! His new eye was  _ wonderful! _ He could see so much better, and in such  _ detail! _

Rork was reminded of his time in the PDF back home; specifically of his time working with heavy weapons and armor. The new, massive eye was like the video displays he’d use: he could  _ “zoom” _ in and out by focussing, and see in much more crisp details. It felt wonderful, giving him a very  _ tingly _ feeling in whatever remained of his brain that left him giggling in amusement whenever he zoomed in-and-out in rapid succession.

Glorious!

_ Truly _ glorious!

_ “Plague Father, I  _ **_praise_ ** _ thee for thine Divine generosity!” _ Rork laughed in rapturous glee, his hissed wheezing turned to a loud, booming roar in the small space that confined him. Diseased blood pumped in his bloated veins, necrotic muscles tensed and rotted as adrenaline flooded his body.

With a curious humm Rork reached up with a gloved hand. The cool rubber depressed against the mutated organ, pressing and pushing around the bloated flesh. Rork could feel the liquid swirling and churning beneath his touch, the skin still raw and new in a way that was unnatural yet  _ so _ satisfying.

Put a 30mm Bolt pistol to his head, Rork would describe it like that feeling when you’d rip off some dead skin to feel the raw flesh beneath, still unused to air and sensitive as Hell. Except as a follower of Nurgle, Rork could skip the pain bit and instead focus on poking his brand new eye.

It was  _ fun _ to feel it jiggle under a more forceful nudge!

Like gelatin!

But an  _ eyeball! _

Oh, the sensation was so pleasant Rork felt himself giggle like a child!

_ “Grandfather Nurgle,” _ He whispered in pious reverence,  _ “This servant of rot and decay is most humbled by Thine most Blessed of Gifts!” _ Rork couldn’t stop the joyous laughter tearing itself from his lungs,  _ “Do you see, child!?” _ he asked the small girl huddled against the door, covered in her own sickness, _ “ _ **_This_ ** _ is the power of a true God! Not those worthless parlor tricks performed by the followers of a mummified husk of a corpse!” _

The girl curled further in on herself.

_ That would not do. _

Rork moved with a swiftness that was as sudden as it was violent, the rubber of his right glove tangled in matted matted locks as he  _ yanked _ .

The girl whimpered and hissed in equal fear and pain.

_ “Look!” _ he ordered,  _ “Look at the gifts of a God, and tell me-” _ a mad laugh filled his ears as he leant back, the girl mewling in his grasp as he shook her.

_ “No!” _ he laughed,  _ “Do not  _ **_tell_ ** _ me!” _

With barely any effort Rork lifted the little Sinner by her hair until he could look her in her mismatched eyes, smiling as she weakly struggled against his grasp. His voice darkened as he leant closer, and revelled at the  _ fear _ the child showed.

_ “Show me!” _

Again he laughed, this time at the confusion that twisted her features.

_ “Show me the power of your False God!” _ with a swift turn Rork spun, bodily throwing the frightened creature with a loud  _ screech _ of panic before an even louder  _ thud _ filled the confines of the room. The way it  _ writhed _ in pain brought a certain satisfaction to Rork’s diseased husk of a heart.

_ “Go on then,” _ he encouraged,  _ “Pray! Pray to your heathen idol and show that I’m wrong!” _

Oh how  _ fun! _ A live demonstration of this poor Sinner’s folly!

…..Any second now!

……….

_ “Hmm…” _ Rork hummed.

This wouldn’t do… If the little heathen didn’t start praying, then how could he dash her little hopes?

_ Oh! _

Right!

With a dark, cruel laugh Rork stepped forward as nimble fingers worked at the protective rubber gloves.

_ “Best hurry, little Sinner!” _ he sang, the  _ snap _ of rubber filling the air as he tore off one glove, then the next. Cool air assaulted his exposed, necrotic flesh which shone in the lumen-lights, hands coated in toxic pus and oils.  _ “Lest I begin thy conversion early!” _

The child’s head moved so fast there was an audible  _ snap _ , fear contorting her face as she desperately crawled away, one eye closed from a cut to her brow.

_ “That’s it, sinner!” _ Rork smiled,  _ “Run away! Pray to thine pathetic little corpse! Summon some mythical Saint to strike me down from on high!” _

_ Finally _ taking his hint, the child did just that. She made the sign of the weak little turkey, bowed her head like a good little girl and spoke her hurried, desperate little heresies.

And the  _ fervor _ with which she spoke!

Why, if she were praying to a  _ real _ God, Rork might’ve felt a shimmer of pride!

He could even make out the stuttering, gasped little  _ oh f-f-fath-th-ther above! _

_ How adorable! _

Rork waited, of course.

_ If he moved too fast, it wouldn’t  _ **_destroy_ ** _ her hope as quickly. _

He waited.

And  _ waited. _

_ And  _ **_waited_ ** _. _

Then with a patronizing chuckle, he said  _ “I don’t think help is coming!” _

He loved it when she only began to pray louder and  _ faster. _

_ “It’s not cooooming!” _ he sang, stepping closer.

Louder more she chanted, desperation so thick he could see her tiny frame start to  _ tremble. _

_ “It’s time, child!” _ he cackled, stepping closer and  _ closer _ , the sinner now  _ screaming _ and struggling to pick up speed through her panicked gasps. Her eyes screwed so tight he was worried they might  _ pop! _

Rork hollered in glee as he ran,  _ kicking _ the girl with the toe of his boot up into the air before catching her by the neck!

_ “YES, Little Sinner, I do believe it is time!” _ madness and fanatic glee filled his eyes as he once more bore into the terrified eyes of his charge, kicking and writhing desperately in his grasp.

_ “Praise be, Sinner; for thine baptism hath come!” _ With his other hand he palmed the handle of his blade, sheathed in a bath of toxins and sludge.

_ “And in the name of Nurgle, God of Rot and Decay!” _ he watched as her terrified eyes focussed as he tore his knife from its protective home.

Just one little  _ prick _ and this  _ Sinner _ would feel an endless agony so terrible that  _ immolation _ would feel like a warm bath in comparison!

_ “I Bring Thee Absolution!” _

He stabbed the blade down-

With a deafening  _ BANG _ Rork was thrown forwards, losing both the knife and the girl as his ears rang, his skull cracking against the plasteel wall of the cabin.

He turned, looking behind him to see sparks from the roof as blackened smoke-

Something fell to the shuttle floor, clanging as it rolled on one side.

He blinked.

_ Is that a flash- _

**_BANG_ **

_ “FUCK!!!” _ Roark howled as his eyes were washed in a blinding white, his eyes ringing louder than ever before.

_ “Oh, dammit!” _ he growled,  _ “What in yon FUCK happened?” _

He was rubbing the blindness from his eyes as he stood on wobbly, unsure legs.

_ Click _

“Absolution,  _ Heretic.” _ a woman snarled.

Rork never saw her.

But he sure did hear the click of her gun.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the delay, but in my defense..... My brain has been cooking with on-and-off fevers for nearly 3 weeks.
> 
> Hope you like it, y'all!


	11. Panic and Rage

Meat: charred, burned and mixed with the distinct smell of bolter-residue, even now. The smell was as putrid as it was valuable, but that did very little to ease her ever-present worry, fear and anger. Tawny brown eyes scanned the site: at least sixty-five humanoids, an unknowable number of beast mounts, and a couple hundred destroyed weapons all blown to hell and scattered everywhere. 

The only spot clear of such carnage was the shuttle in the direct center-

Or, more accurately, what was  _ left. _

It was riddled with more holes than a  _ Penal Legion _ recruit on deployment against the Orks. The entire right side was basically missing, spare the outer hull; and there was a massive  _ spike _ impaled through the cockpit. How anyone could have survived is either a miracle or a curse.

But it was the  _ inside _ she was most focussed on: three corpses cut up with a saber and each having one round in the head; each body had a look of surprise, like they didn’t expect it to happen. There were also stains on one of the sofas, older by days, and what she was  _ really _ after.

“Well?” Marlena growled, rage tinged with worry, “What have you found!?”

The subject of her anger was currently sitting cross-legged on the floor, a shred of blood-stained upholstery clasped between mechanical digits. Glowing green ocular lenses turned beneath a navy hood, regarding Marlena for only a brief moment before once more focusing on the fabric in its grasp.

It hummed mechanically, the ticking of clockwork and actuators accompanying the noise.  _ “I believe,” _ It began,  _ “That you should step outside.” _

Brown eyes widened in shock as It continued to turn the small shred of fabric in its hand, small metal micro-limbs stabbing at the cloth.

Marlena’s blood began to boil as she stepped forward, “Listen here you  _ fuck,” _ she snarled, “Update me now or I’ll-”   
_ “You’ll what?” _ It asked, eyes glancing over once again.  _ “You’ll kill me?” _ It challenged.

“I-”

_ “Would lose all trace of your Kitten,” _ It said, and Marlena’s jaw snapped shut,  _ “I am the only one able to accurately analyse the genetic data on this shred of fabric, and I am the only Thing within several hundred-thousand kilometers that could save her if she is in critical condition.” _

She fumed, rage building,  _ “Go outside,” _ It ordered,  _ “The faster I analyse this, the faster you may find your precious Kitten; I cannot do this if you keep interrupting me.” _

And she did just that, storming out to avoid damaging her specialist in her blind rage. Several of her retinue were posted outside, the power armored women all alert for danger or searching the ground for clues, as they were instructed.

They knew what she did to bitches that didn’t follow orders.

_ There’s more than one way to make pleasure servitors, after all. _

“Find anything?” she growled angrily into her vox.

There was a series of negatives, which didn’t improve her mood in the  _ slightest _ . Marlena could feel her teeth  _ creak, _ threatening to crack under how tight she was gritting her teeth.

They were stuck here, sitting around with their thumbs  _ jammed _ up their twats while her-  _ she gasped sharply as her eyes began to burn _ -her  _ Pet _ could be out there with some  **_slaver_ ** _. _

Yes.

_ Pet. _

That was what Catra was: a pet, a stray picked up off the streets, just a Kitten she decided to rescue on a whim. Nothing else.

_ No matter how much the aching in her chest tried to convince her otherwise. _

And with a tired sigh she slumped in her armor, her rage washed away in a flood of fear and worry. Why? Why did this have to happen to her? Catra was just some gutter trash from the Under Hive! The poor thing shouldn’t have to struggle or suffer anymore!

Servos whirred as Marlena sat down on the ashen ground, taking a second to just…  _ Breathe. _ To just shut off her brain, and not think about the Thing in the shuttle.

Alas, her traitorous heart just wouldn’t let her, even as she gazed over the crimson landscape before her. Even as she spent literal  _ days _ of non-stop sleep searching,  _ begging _ to the Father that Catra wasn’t gone.

Hell, if it weren’t for stimms, determination and her power-armor keeping her up, Marlena probably would’ve keeled over with exhaustion by now.

Ah, drugs!

They fix  _ all _ your problems!

_ Besides the terror you feel at having failed her, and realizing you’ve lost  _ **_another_ ** _ - _

_ Clink _

Her thoughts stopped, and with a downward turn of her head Marlena looked at the thing that touched her hand.

It was a hilt, dirty and partially buried beneath the ash-sand of the desert. Marlena didn’t bother to yell at her subordinates for missing something like this, and instead focussed on the item itself.

Who was she to look a gift grox in the mouth?

She brushed aside some ash before gripping the hilt, deciding to just lift the blade out of the ground with the aid of her power armor’s enhanced strength. It took virtually  _ zero _ effort. What she found was actually rather impressive: a long, single-edged blade with a wide fuller and a deep curve; the guard began as a straight cross, then bent at a sharp 90° angle, continuing down until it curved into the hilt at the last half, creating a rather iconic handguard.

All in all, it was a rather decent example of a szabla, the traditional sword of the Urthani population.

The dried blood on the blade also hinted that maybe  _ this _ was the mystery saber that cut up those men in the shuttle.

It was a  _ damn _ fine blade, balance was a bit far, but that was pretty common with this kind of saber; and honestly, if she didn’t have a better one, Marlena would have considered trading.

But hers was still better.

Regardless, at least it’d make a good gift to Catra once they find her.

Oh!

_ That _ was an idea!

Marlena could teach her-

“What’s this?” Marlena wondered, spotting a strange mark on the blade.

At the point where the blade met guard and behind the cross-shaped flanges that were welded to the guard, there was a small mark in the adamantium blade, in the fuller itself. It appeared to be some sort of maker’s stamp of some sort.

One she recognized.

There was an audible  _ crack _ as Marlena’s enhanced strength began to  _ crush _ the synthetic material of the hilt, and she could taste the bitter tang of blood filling her mouth from grinding her teeth.

She  _ knew _ that mark…..

Knew the mark of the  _ bastard _ who took him from her!

_ Alethros! _

This is an  _ Alethros _ szabla!

This whole  _ shuttle _ probably belonged to the bastard!

That fuck!

That  _ fucking bastard! _

Marlena could feel her blood boil, realizing her Catra’s  _ blood _ was in that shuttle!

Brown eyes widened and terror gripped her heart even as she leapt to her feet. Oh  _ Emperor _ her Catra’s blood was in an  _ Alethros _ shuttle.

No.

_ Nonono- _

By the Golden Fucking Throne, that son of a whore better not have laid a  _ finger _ on Catra  _ or so help her _ -

“Mistress!”

“What!?” she snapped to her right, eyes wide and savage even as one of her little minions ran up, waving a spent casing around.

“Ma’am, bad news!” she responded, snapping to attention before holding out the massive shell.

“How bad?” Marlena asked, grabbing the spent casing and immediately turning it on it’s bottom:  _ “30mm Corilan Pattern Bolt Ammunition” _

She blinked,  _ “Corilan? That’s on the other side of the galaxy, why would it be-” _ her thoughts ceased, a horrified gasp escaped her lungs as she dropped the spent casing. There, etched on the side of the massive shell was a mark of evil: three circles arranged in an upside down triangle with three arrows separating them.

A vile mark of toxicity and corruption in a cruel parody of a biohazard symbol.

This-

_ This cannot be happening- _

_ “Marlena,” _ It’s synthesized voice echoed from the exit of the destroyed craft,  _ “I have concluded the Pet was in fact here at one point, and rather recently judging from the used medical-” _

“On the ship!” Marlena roared, pure panic throwing her at her craft, “On the ship  _ right fucking now _ or you get left behind!”

…………………….

Marlena would be lying if she said she didn’t briefly black out from a mix of adrenaline, panic, terror and rage all rolled into one. One moment she was running to her shuttle; then she put a 30mm Bolt pistol to her pilot’s head demanding he do what Thing said; and now here she was, prepping her gear for the inevitable assault.

The crimson plate of her power armor had a matte sheen to it in the white glow of the lumens, which made the gold and bronze accenting  _ pop. _ Marlena was honestly surprised the old vestments still fit to begin with, the armor being a thing she hadn’t worn in…  _ Throne _ she can’t remember. Decades, probably. Back when she was young, dumb, and thought having sculpted ceramite tits was a good idea.

It didn’t really matter practically speaking-  _ ceramite was ceramite regardless of shape _ -but it really compressed her chest in uncomfortable ways.

Her other equipment was just as old: she replaced her civilian pattern Bolt pistol for one her enhanced frame can use more effectively use, nearly doubling the diameter from 16 to 30mm; her old Bolter, a 40mm machine of death with a twenty round double-stack magazine; and both of which fired caseless mini rockets.

It felt…  _ Nostalgic _ to wear this old armor, bare these old weapons. She felt like a  _ warrior _ .

_ And it distracted her from the endless panic that came from thoughts of Catra being kidnapped by the literal forces of evil. _

Across from her Marlena could see It performing rituals on itself and its equipment: a flowing navy duster, grey baggy trousers that ended at metal knees, and a black cuirass with a strange blue-and-silver design Marlena still couldn’t really make out well.

_ “We will find your Pet,” _ It assures in its mechanical voice,  _ “Have faith.” _

“Ha!” Marlena scoffed, “Faith is the one thing I do not lack, Thing.”

It shook its head beneath the hood,  _ “Do not lie to yourself.” _

With that, It stood and walked off.

Marlena resisted the urge to put a bolt in It’s back.

She resisted very hard.

Shaking her head, Marlena strapped on her oxygen mask before moving to the cockpit. The pilot was still terrified of her.

“Any visual?” she asked, scanning the horizon.

The pilot shook her head in the negative, “Following the trail Thing set up, but I can’t-”

Suddenly there was a crackle from over the vox system in her collar-  _ taken from her previous cuirass _ -as static began to filter in.

It was Catra!

They were getting close!

“Track this signal and don’t lose it!” Marlena barked her orders, rushing back to grab her jump pa-

_ “B-st hu-r-y little Sinner!” _ the color drained from her face as a cruel and rotting voice  _ sang _ over the vox.

_ “Lest I begin thy conversion early!” _

“Full fucking throttle!” she roared, rushing off, “Follow that signal like your life depends on it-  _ Because it fucking does!!!” _

There was a shuffling, and that cruel laugh continued,  _ “That’s it, Sinner! Run away! Pray to thine pathetic little corpse! Summon some mythical Saint to strike me down from on high!” _

Faster, faster,  _ faster! _

_ Fly faster you fuck!!! _

Heavy footfalls thundered down the metal hall as Marlena rushed to the cargo bay. She ran even as weak, terrified prayers were stuttered through trembling lips over the vox,  _ “Oh f-father abo-ove I beg, please lead me t-to freedom and-and protect me from all Evil.” _

_ Good girl _ , Marlena smiled despite her panic,  _ Stay brave, little Kitten, we’re almost there! _

Entering the cargo bay, Marlena was greeted by the sight of her minions along with the Thing all kitted up and ready for combat, the navy-cloaked enigma already holding a jump pack to strap on.

_ She swore to herself she’d buy It a piece of rare, ancient tech! _

The jump pack was bolted into position,  _ “Enemy craft in sight! Above target in thirty seconds!” _ the pilot’s voice crackled over the ship’s vox-hailers.

“Light up any defensive weapons, but do  _ not _ damage the ship!” Marlena ordered, slamming a ceramite-encased fist against one of the cargo bay’s multiple openings. With a loud, metallic groaning two large doors in the floor slid open, sucking loose debris out in a violent draft.

_ The screeching of the metal drowned out the screeching of the child in her ears. _

Marlena turned to Thing to give it orders, but the machanical being just held up a hand, a string of binary flowing from beneath the hood-

_ “There,” _ it pointed near the rear of the shuttle,  _ “And there.” _ more towards the center for the second one. It was a medium sized shuttle, so it would be easy.

Marlena didn’t know nor understand the ways of the Machine Cult, and so would not ask how It knew where to go.

Instead she pulled back the charging handle of her Bolter, feeding a massive 40mm round into the instrument of divine justice.

_ “Praise be, Sinner; for thine baptism hath come!” _ roared the vile cultist as Marlena jumped, using her jump pack to propel herself forward and onto the hull of the vessel before activating the magnets on her sabatons to lock herself into place.

_ “And in the name of Nurgle, God of Rot and Decay!” _

With the laser attached to her Bolter Marlena marked the targets for her shuttle’s automated anti-aircraft weaponry before, at the top of her lungs, she screamed-

_ “I Bring Thee Absolution!” _

“Open fire!”

The thunderous roars of the heavy weaponry was matched only by the vicious barks of Marlena’s Bolter, tearing a hole through nearly a foot of armor and mechanics.

Sharp brown eyes zeroed in on her prey as an armored hand flew to her waist and in a fluid motion tossed down the flasbang before shielding herself.

She heard the vile scream of a distorted, horrific perversion of the human vocal cords, crying and howling in righteous  _ pain _ .

She gracefully dropped down to the shuttle floor, immediately putting herself between this  _ monster _ and the scared child behind her.

_ “Oh dammit!” _ the abomination groaned in pain,  _ “What in yon FUCK happened?” _

The click of another round being fed into the receiver was the  _ filth’s  _ reply.

“Absolution,  _ Heretic.” _ was her answer, depressing the trigger, turning the cultist’s head and torso into a fine mist.

Then his legs.

_ Then she atomised the mist. _

Marlena would have-  _ happily _ -done more, but more important matters drew her attention away from purging the  _ stain _ on reality that was the Nurglite.

Spinning on her heel Marlena turned to face the only other occupant in the room: a small, scared little girl. Curled up in a ball with fat tears rolling down her face, staining her already filthy fur as she sobbed in a mix of relief, fear, and adrenaline.

The armored woman didn’t even hesitate, sliding on ceramite knees Marlena pulled the trembling child into as tight an embrace as she could without risk of crushing the poor thing.

“C-Catra-Kitten-” Marlena could hardly breath with all the relief exploding in her heart,  _ “Baby _ , thank the  _ Father!” _ she cried, breathing in the child’s scent, blessed beyond measure that this is  _ real _ and she’s  _ safe. _

Catra clung tightly to Marlena’s armor, trembling so bad the woman was terrified the kitten might be having a seizure, “I-I-I-” she stuttered, voice broken and terrified,  _ “I th-thought you w-were gonna leave me!” _ Catra wailed, trying her best to bury her face in the crook of Marlena’s neck, stopped only by the lip of the armored gorget.

“Hush,” Marlena shushed softly, running encased fingers as gently as she could through the child’s matted locks, “I would  _ never _ leave you, baby girl.”

“B-Bu-”

_ “Never.” _ Marlena cuts off, firm yet gentle, “I will  _ never _ abandon you, not ‘till the day I die.” She scoffs, “And even then I still might return to you.”

Catra says nothing, tightening her grasp as stressed purrs vibrate in her chest, struggling to calm herself down.

Marlena continues to sooth the child, even as gunfire roars throughout the shuttle, and only then does she move. Standing at her full height she gently scratches at Catra’s neck until the girl pulls away enough that Marlena can look into her mismatched eyes.

“I’m going to get you out of here, okay?” she says, “My shuttle is just above-”

_ “No!”  _ Catra shrieks, eyes wide as she suddenly begins to struggle in Marlena’s grasp, “I-I can’t- We have to-”

“Calm down!” Marlena tries, “You’re going to hurt yourself-”

_ “Adora!” _ Catra shrieks, wriggling out of Marlena’s grasp and sprinting towards the only door in the room and  _ throwing _ her tiny body at the metal slab, fists pound against the solid surface.

_ “Adora!"  _ She screams, even as Marlena runs to stop her from hurting herself any further, “Adora!!!”

Finally Marlena roughly yanks Catra back by her tiny wrists, wrapping an arm across her chest so she can’t turn in Marlena’s hold and try to scratch her.

_ She’d seen her do it before. _

“Cat-”  _ hiss! _ “Catra that’s  _ enough!” _ Marlena raised her voice, softly shaking the child to try and sap the fight from her. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Catra fidgets in the woman’s grasp, but relents in a panic, “A-Adora’s in there!” the child cries, “We have to save her! W-We-” Catra swallows the lump in her throat, “Help her, please!”

Marlena pauses, weighing-

_ “Help her!” _ Catra demands, somehow twisting enough to glare into Marlena’s tawny brown eyes,  _ “Help her!!!” _

She’s stunned.

The look of devotion in Catra’s eyes… It burned with an intensity Marlena hadn’t seen in even her own retinue.

Slowly Marlena tightened her hold until Catra hissed in pain and stopped thrashing.

“You  _ stay _ behind me,” she began, firm and brokering no argument,  _ “Understood?” _

The child nodden frantically, dirty black mane bobbing wildly.

Marlena backed up several feet before letting Catra go and setting her on the floor, which she quickly scurried and hid behind the woman’s armored legs.

_ Smart. _

Once more raising her Bolter, Marlena squeezed off two rounds, turning the door-  _ and bits of the wall _ -to nothing but a charred scrap hole merely in the  _ shape _ of a door.

The cultists-  _ both Nurglites _ -behind the door were torn to shreds by the shrapnel, killing two birds with one stone.

Marlena’s sabatons clicked and squished against the blood soaked floor of the shuttle hall-  _ she picked up Catra with one hand and switched to her pistol _ -as she advanced, following Catra’s instructions.

In reality, the door she pointed to was barely ten feet away from where they came from, but that didn’t stop Marlena from keeping Catra safe.

“For the Rot God!!!”

Case in point: some diseased little shit tried running up with a lead pipe-  _ who the fuck uses  _ **_lead_ ** _ anymore? _ -intent on bashing their skulls in.

Not realizing, of course, the destructive power of a 30mm diamond-tipped HE rocket flying straight for his bloated, five eyed face.

Finally reaching the door, Marlena set Catra down and-  _ gently _ -pushed the child behind her, in case of danger.

With a careful hand she deactivated the door’s lock.

The door slid open with a whir of mechanical bits, Marlena’s pistol raised and ready for any threat she might face. What she saw, however…..

Blood.

Blood  _ everywhere, _ and the slick spray only continued to fall as a blade rose and fell with a  _ disturbing _ level of violence and malice.

Catra gasped in horror, and with a startled voice cried,  _ “Adora!!!” _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this took way too long! Super sorry, y'all, I'll try to push these out faster!
> 
> Was meaning to get this done so I could do a Christmas special, but..... Well, I think that might be late. Like, a LOT late.


	12. Other Side

_“Adora!!!”_ the child screamed, the sound somehow penetrating the thick door separating the two compartments.

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

_“Adora!!!”_ she cried again, making Sela wonder why she didn’t sedate the little stray in the first place.

Oh right.

_Rork._

Another agonized sigh tore itself from her, and she could just _feel_ the migraine coming on. Sela honestly wasn’t sure what was worse: the near constant screaming, or Rork’s constant fucking _preeching_ **.**

 _“Go with Rork, Sela! They may need your assistance, Sela! You’re the only surgeon in the Warband,_ **_Sela_** _!”_ she groaned, taloned hands rubbing at her temples to attempt to stave off the ever encroaching brain-pain.

 _“Oh, brain-pain isn’t a thing, Sela! Where did you get your degree, the Manufactorum-_ How about you shut the fuck up, **_Stacy_ **_?_ How about I graft a cock to the underside of your twat so you can _go fuck yourself_ while you walk, huh!?”

_Wait-_

_No, that didn’t really make any sense-_

“Oh whatever!” the surgeon growled, grabbing her scalpel and sharpening it on a whetstone.

Sela was a rather unremarkable woman: short, rail thin, white as bone, hair black as the void and all wrapped up in blue robes with white medical equipment worn overtop.

_Yep._

Just your _average_ Human.

A spindly metal hand scratched the feathers on her cheek, the insectoid limbs cool to the touch and drawing a content trilling from her throat.

Oh yeah.

The augmetics and mutations.

_How could she forget?_

On her back was a metal dome which was grafted directly to her spine and nervous system; and from it sprung four long, metal limbs with small manipulators to assist with the very _delicate_ art of surgery.

 _Very_ delicate.

 **_VERY_ ** _very_ delicate.

Then, of course, was the mutations given to her by Tzeentch, which she battled _constantly_ lest she turn into an ADD squirrel on meth, stimms and Warpdust.

Fun fact: Tzeentch is an _asshole_ and will give you the attention span of a bird _just because!_ Isn’t that just fan- _f_ _ucking_ -tastic?

Luckily her mutations didn’t hinder her ability to do her craft: large bird-like talons, pitch-black eyes, and seemingly random patches of avian scales and feathers.

Because Tzeentch has a fucking _bird fetish_ , or whatever.

Regardless, they didn’t stop her from performing very delicate surgeries; especially with the felp of her _very_ useful metal bits.

………

_Felp?_

“Fucking Tzeentch…..” again she growled. Black eyes once more glancing across her latest patient.

She was a small little child-person, prepubescent yet showing signs of advanced brain development. Augmentation? Possible, but not mechanical.

_Perhaps gene alteration in an artificial womb?_

It wasn’t unheard of among those who could afford such _“designer babies;”_ and Nobility were certainly _not_ strapped for cash. It would explain a few of the somewhat _abnormal_ things Sela found: not enough to be seen as an Abhuman or Skitarii prototype, but enough to make her an excellent broodmare or trophy wife in her future years.

_Nobility was weird like that._

Regardless, the subject was received with severe trauma to the left shin: muscle and ligaments ripped apart and burned with metal shavings embedded inside the wound; blood pouring profusely through a destroyed artery.

Time of death: _26:29_ Urthan Planetary Standard.

Time of revival: _26:30_ Urthan Planetary Standard.

 _Sela was in fact_ **_not_ ** _ashamed at her newest personal record, thank you very much!_

Regardless, to anyone else besides a Magos, the leg would’ve been an unsalvageable mess; and those hacks would’ve just chopped the damn thing off and called it a day.

Graft of an attachment point for bionic limbs or something. 

Who cares, right? 

It was useless!

 _“Well_ **_they_ ** _are a bunch of bitches!”_ Sela sniggered like the feathered gremlin that she was.

Regardless, the parameters were set: Retrieve Subject; Repair Subject; Avoid Corruption _At All_ **_Costs_ ** _._

The surgeon wasn’t sure _why_ this little shit was so important; she just knew that if she fucked up, that Sela would be given to the _Slaaneshi’s….._

She shivered in disgust and horror.

_It’d be more merciful to try fucking a revving chainsword….._

Again, regardless- _she sure does say regardless a lot, huh?_ -it wasn’t like Sela ever relied on the forces of fucking _Tzeentch_ to help her with surgeries. She hated that prick with a bloody _passion_ after all he’s done to fuck her up, but you read just _one_ too many banned books and **_BAM!!!_ **

You get a feather gremlin.

Or a Sela, if you wanted to be right.

Honestly, Sela didn’t really understand the fuck up in the first place; Al’Alumain and his group shot down the little shit’s shuttle, it shouldn’t be _their_ responsibility to fix _his_ fuck up. Alas, the galaxy did not work in the ways Sela’s _perfect_ logic dictates.

_If that were the case, Militarum Tactica miniatures wouldn’t be so Gods-Damned expensive._

Seriously- _Three hundred Thrones_ for a squad of Squat-Pattern tanks!? The _fuck!?_ And don’t even get her _started_ on the lack of female models! _One_ squad of snipers sculpted in the most over-sexualized way possible, with _zero_ room for conversion or kitbashing! And fucking _Tallarn!_

Just _thinking_ about the out of production desert raiders made her mutated blood _boil_ in a way not dissimilar to a Khornate.

Bitching about the- _addictive and expensive-as-fuck_ -cousin to Regicide aside, Sela didn’t have much to do.

The limb was stabilized, and the tissue would repair itself thanks to a healthy mix of drugs that were _not_ addictive. _“Corruption”_ was a very loose word when it came to Sela since she had no use or witchcraft or magic; but she’d rather not get the kid hooked on pain-killers and somehow be blamed for trying to turn the little shit towards Slaanesh.

An exaggeration, obviously, but she still didn’t want to risk it.

Sela _liked_ her body in one piece.

She wasn’t into the idea of getting split in half like a Slaaneshi trying to fuck a World Bearer on a roid-rage.

Or-

_Was it Word Eaters?_

Whichever one was white and turned red!

_Anyway!_

She sighed, rubbing her temples to ease the brain-pain. Tzeentchian ADD was a _bitch_ and a half.

What Sela was getting at: the limb was stable, would heal somewhat naturally, and so long as the little shit didn’t do anything _too_ stressful then there was no chance of her bleeding to death.

_Again._

Honestly, if not for Sela’s _genius_ mind, this little shit would be on a one-way track to cripple-town! The other injuries were rather minor in comparison, and honestly didn’t even need mentioning.

Especially since she fixed _all_ that shit!

_Yeah!_

Sela allowed her mechanical limbs to scratch her feathers, trilling and preening in content bliss, her ego _thoroughly_ stroked.

“Ah,” Sela sighed joyously, “It really pays to be perfect-”

There was a thunderous _boom_ as the shuttle violently shook, nearly throwing the avian doctor to the floor if not for her spidery limbs stabbing themselves into the metal hull, stabilizing her.

“What the-” ebon eyes widened in panic as she turned, scanning the dimmed room _“Fuck!”_

_The patient!_

If that little shit bled out again, Sela would lose her- _A flash of silver shone brightly, even in the flickering lights of the medical bay_ -head?

There was a sudden, blinding pain that exploded from her right eye as Sela screamed and howled in agony, her limbs flailing wildly as she thrashed around the small room. 

_Fuck!_

Feeling around, Sela found a scalpel lodged directly into her eye, so deep it skewered the squishy ball and lodged itself directly into her skull.

_FuckFuckFUCK!!!_

_“FUCK!!!”_ Sela screeched, tears streaming down her face as she continued thrashing, nearly blinded. With a wild turn she saw her, that little _shit!_

That tiny **_fucker_ ** did this!

Hollow silver eyes stared back into Sela’s one remaining black orb, dull and lifeless.

“You _fucker!”_ she cried, swinging a limb to splatter this little _shit’s_ grey matter on the walls!

_FUCK the Gods-damned mission!!!_

The little shit twisted her body before the limb could connect, then leapt at Sela.

She tried disemboweling the little bitch, but the child was too fast, slipping under Sela’s guard and tackling the avian woman to the floor.

An agonized scream tore itself from Sela, ripping her throat as her trapped metal limbs buckled and _snapped,_ ligaments tearing and sending an ungodly amount of pain directly into her nervous system.

The surgeon nearly blacked out.

_And she wished she had._

While she was busy reeling from the agony of her _limbs_ being torn from her body, the little _devil_ went to work. Sela could feel the vibrations running through the scalpel as the child gripped it, could feel it wiggling around before-

**_POP_ **

Sela’s mind went blank as pure, unfiltered _pain_ flooded her system as she screamed, and _screamed._ Even as Sela thrashed she could see it, clear as day through her one remaining eye, the sight of a black sphere, leaking all kinds of nasty fluids and skewered on a long, mono-molecular edged scalpel.

 _And_ **_outside_ ** _her body._

The _demon_ flicked her small hand and Sela’s right eye slipped off with a wet _plop_ as it squished against the floor.

With one hand Sela lashed out, talons poised to lop off the little shit’s-

_Shing!_

_“FUCK!!!”_ she howled, four fingers removed and the scalpel held in a rapier’s grip in the monster’s hand.

Those _damn_ eyes, cold and lifeless bore into Sela’s; and as the monster raised it’s hand, blade poised to strike…..

_Sela felt fear._

She screamed as the blade _flashed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, that Christmas special's probably gonna be a "Mid-January Special." My bad, y'all.
> 
> Edit: Are the Chaos Gods fucking REAL??? First I fuck with the Nurglites, then I get sick for 3 weeks; now I pop a bird-brain's eye out, and I get a migraine right behind my LEFT EYE.  
> Is this fucking karma!? If so, I don't like it!!!


	13. Chapter 13

There were drugs pumping through their circulatory system.

_ Shunk! _

Severe trauma to the left shin, fibular artery destroyed, repaired, and bone partially shattered.

_ Shunk! _

_ Shunk! _

The paleness of their flesh and the way the body shook and trembled indicated a severe lack of blood, possibly also alluding to an excess of adrenaline from the brief skirmish-

The door to the medical room slid open, they paid it no mind, even as a startled gasp disturbed the otherwise peaceful din of the room.

_ Shunk! _

_ Shunk!! _

**_Shunk!!!_ **

_ “Adora!!!” _ a shrill, startled cry echoed through the small room.

They frowned in pain, ears ringing sharply as their head began to throb  _ painfully _ in the confines of its bone housing.

Cold eyes moved slowly, lazily, scanning the source of the noise which brought a sharp,  _ throbbing _ pain in their cranium.

It was a child-  _ Abhuman _ -and based off the signs of malnutrition, possibly younger by a year at most. Features suggested a female, but Abhumans were not standard, thus attempting to gauge gender dimorphism off of true Human genetics was faulty.

_ Nice _

_ Fun _

_ Soft _

**_Friend_ ** _ - _

Their frown deepened as unfiltered  _ pain _ shot through their head, right eye twitching uncontrollably.

“A-Adora!” the Abhuman gasped, taking a step forward-

Their hand flashed, blade brought to bare as cold silver locked onto mismatched cyan and gold, their threat clear:

_ A promise of pain. _

The woman-  _ they hadn’t paid attention to her _ -tensed, putting a firm hand on the Abhuman’s shoulder.

They could hear the soothing, familiar  _ whir _ of machinery as the armor-

_ Pain _

**_Pain_ **

**_PAIN_ **

Their brain was  _ exploding _ , pain receptors shooting off like lightning. Black spots danced distractingly in their eyes as their small legs began to buckle. Their breath came in short, laboured gasps and left in pained, stuttered grunts as they struggled to stay awake.

Even as their vision blackened, even as the Abhuman slipped from the woman’s grip; and even as they collapsed, knees slamming into a puddle of their captor’s blood, they  _ struggled. _

_ “I don’t want to go away again,”  _ they thought, cold logic giving way to a sudden, soul-crushing weight of terror that shook her small frame and drew a terrified sob.

_ And then there was nothing. _

…………………….

_ “Adora!!!” _ Catra gasped in horror, and Marlena could see why. The girl was straddling a mutated corpse’s chest, nearly  _ drenched _ in blood and stabbing the body again, and  _ again _ , and  **_again_ ** . What was more disturbing was the expression on her face.

Or rather, her  _ lack _ of expression.

Her features were relaxed, and her movements were calm, precise and planned. She looked  _ bored _ , almost, as though she were doing some regular mundane task like doing homework. As though stabbing a cultist until its corpse was unrecognizable was  _ normal. _

Cold eyes turned to Catra, and Marlena didn’t like the look in them. They were blank, lifeless and empty, yet had a strangeness to them the woman couldn’t quite place.

The way her lips drew into a frown also set Marlena on edge.

_ She _ could take the child easily, no problem, but if Catra wasn’t careful…

Well.

_ Catra would forgive her in time. _

Marlena was drawn from her thoughts when the child hissed in pain. The bloody hand not gripping the blade tightly pressed against her locks, staining the golden strands as her face contorted in an agonized scowl and her eye twitched rapidly and unnaturally.

The child’s breath came in quick, pained gasps which struggled to fill her tiny lungs.

“A-Adora!” Catra gasped, worry and fear in her voice as she took a step-

Marlena clamped a ceramite encased hand against Catra’s right shoulder as the little blonde’s other hand flashed silver in the dim light.

The hand holding Marlena’s Bolt pistol tightened, hyper aware of the scalpel in the bloodied girl’s tight grip.

_ Aware of how dangerous it was to Catra. _

Catra, who Marlena could feel trembling, even through her power armor.

Though that may have to do with how  _ tightly _ Marlena was gripping the feline, more than well aware of Catra’s tendency to escape capture.

Marlena could almost hear the proverbial clock  _ tick-tock _ as all three stood there, none of them making a move-  _ Catra’s fidgeting aside _ -as they waited.

Maybe Marlena was being too aggressive, planning on shooting this girl at the first sign of danger.

Tawny eyes briefly glanced down at an ebon mane that rivalled the void itself, and her chest tightened in pain and fear at the thought of the kitten hurt.

_ She would  _ **_not_ ** _ lose another. _

Thankfully she didn’t need to waste a bolt.

With a pained sob the girl’s knees buckled, her eyes closed as she collapsed-

_ “Catra!” _

Marlena couldn’t stop the furious bark that tore from her lips as the small kitten basically  _ threw _ herself at the bloodied blonde, not  _ at all _ concerned for the blade still clutched-  _ albeit loosely _ -in her hand.

_ “Hi, my name’s Catra, I don’t know what self-preservation means!” _

Didn’t she grow up in the  **_fucking_ ** Underhive!?

_ Why was she so reckless!? _

“A-Adora!” Catra cried, voice trembling as she gently shook the human girl tightly clutched in her arms, “Please wake up-  _ P-Please!” _

_ Great! _

**_Now_ ** _ she was crying! _

On literally  _ any _ other occasion Marlena would happily embrace the small kitten and comfort her, but as she marched over to the girls, all she felt was terror fueled  _ rage _ .

Grabbing Catra by the scruff of her collar Marlena  _ yanked _ the child away from her  _ “Adora,” _ furious brown eyes glaring into wet blue and gold.

“I  _ said _ you stay  _ behind me!” _ she reminded through grit teeth, “If we weren’t on a Cultist shuttle I would pull down your trousers and  _ tan your hide _ young lady! Do you understand!?”

The kitten nodded so frantically Marlena’s terror gave way to worry, fearing her kitten might’ve hurt her neck with how fast she bobbed.

_ “The Thing can check on her when she’s safe,” _ Marlena reminded herself.

“Good!” Marlena barked, satisfied in the amount of fear instilled in the child. Maybe  _ now _ she won’t consider throwing herself at  _ people who threaten her  _ **_with KNIVES._ **

Heavy metal footfalls alerted Marlena to the person running towards the door, and she turned to face them, grip tight on the Bolt pistol. What she saw was one of her minions, clad in similar power armor, only she was wearing a helmet.

Also missing her right arm.

“Ma’am!” the minion snapped to attention, raising her left hand to her forehead in a salute, “The shuttle is mostly clear, with only two casualties including myself!”

“And your arm?” Marlena asked.

“One of the cultists had an Astartes shotgun, Ma’am! Tore it to shreds and took my las pistol with it!”

Marlena nodded, shifting Catra so the child could cling to the woman’s neck without difficulty, “Target secured, along with someone extra,” she jerked her head to the child laying on the bloodied floor, “Take her and we’ll retreat back to the shuttle.”

“Ma’am!”

Marlena didn’t wait, only moved past the injured woman and took Catra back to the room where she created the hole in the ceiling.

Looking up, her shuttle was still in the same spot as before, so jumping up would be simple.

_ After she removed her oxygen mask and put it on Catra, to keep her lungs safe from the harsh desert skies. _

With the roar of jet exhaust in her ears Marlena ascended to her shuttle, Catra in hand and  _ finally _ able to feel something beyond panic, terror and worry.

_ It was also adorable how tightly Catra clung to her armor when they flew. _

Not a second later the injured minion arrived,  _ “Adora” _ in hand and awaiting orders.

“Put her in the medical bay, and make sure to strap her down  _ tight _ , I don’t want her moving around.”

The minion nodded, crimson helm gleaming in the light of the cargo bay’s lumens before she marched off to complete her duty.

Catra looked ready to argue, but a glare from Marlena shut that down quick.

Reaching for her com bead, she ordered “All units return to the shuttle; pilot, once all units are on board then destroy that  _ abomination _ , and glass the bastard when it’s down.”

Several cries of affirmation were her answer, though it wasn’t like she cared.

She had Catra, and that’s all that mattered.

_ Speaking of which..... _

Turning to look at the kitten in her arms, Marlena’s fury from earlier finally fizzled out and  _ died. _

Mismatched eyes looked at her with fear, horror and  _ dread _ as she shook, all color draining from her face and breath coming in short, quiet gasps.

_ Marlena didn’t like that look. _

_ She  _ **_hated_ ** _ it. _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short with a little angst, the perfect mix for December!


	14. Chill

OC-11321 knew Its mission the moment it stepped onto the cargo bay, already getting a notification someone had entered it’s domicile in Medical. It was a being of punctuality, practicality and simplicity; thus wasted no time attempting to help the Human Marlena calm or comfort her terrified pet.

That was  _ her _ issue, and  _ hers _ alone.

If OC-11321 were tasked with scanning the Abhuman’s brain and finding signs of past traumas causing such a panicked reaction, It would do its job successfully.

It was, however,  _ not _ Its job.

It passed by several crewmen on Its way to Medical, all of whom gave it either a wide berth or offered nervous looks.

_ “It appears they still remember the incident with ensign Kelly.” _ It noted, storing said data for later pontification.

Ensign Kelly was a rather young Human, barely past her second decade, when she made the mistake of treating OC-11321 like a Human, and asking of  _ ‘his’ _ romantic feelings.

OC-11321 responded by replacing several of the ensign’s bits with superior mechanical augmetics, and rendering her unable to speak such drivel to It ever again.

OC-11321 was not a  _ Him, Her  _ or _ They;  _ OC-11321 was an  _ It  _ or a  _ Thing _ .

Such monikers were reserved for the Humans for which It was created to serve,  _ not _ titles for Itself.

It’s purpose was ordained by the Omnissiah long before It was even a  _ concept _ .

It-  _ metaphorically _ -shook such thoughts aside for later, as it had finally made it to Medical.

It was time to get to work.

…………………….

“I-I’m s-so-orry!” Catra sobbed, her words stuttered and forced through hiccups and gasps as she bawled her eyes out. She was curled in a ball, muscles tense as she shook with terror on-par with someone reliving old traumas.

“It’s fine, sweetie!” Marlena tried, running her fingers through the kitten’s mane. Once she took Catra to her personal cabin aboard the shuttle, Marlena set about removing her armor, hoping Catra would’ve calmed down from earlier.

Instead, she found the child hugging her knees and rocking back-and-forth where she’d left her, fat tears rolling down her cheeks before she  _ howled _ in sobbing.

“It’s fine, Catra! You’re fine, darling, I won’t hurt you I promise.” Marlena tried again, only getting a wagging mane in response as Catra shook her head.

_ “L-Liar!” _ she screeched, voice raw and broken.

_ Alright, _ Marlena mused,  _ Different approach. _

She leaned away from Catra, only far enough away to grab the comforter from further down the bed, and tightly wrapped the small girl in the big, poofy and warm cloth.

Catra froze, her sobs stopped briefly as she opened her eyes, confused.

_ Better. _

Going the extra step, Marlena pulled the girl into her lap and held her close, putting her right ear against the woman’s chest to hear her heartbeat.

Short, anxious purrs pulled themselves from the kitten’s chest, trying to sooth her nerves.

_ Almost there….. _

Then Marlena began to gently rock back and forth, all the while combing the girl’s mane and softly humming some random tune.

Marlena could feel Catra tense in her arms, then slowly-  _ very slowly _ -the purrs grew in volume and steadiness as Catra almost seemed to  _ melt _ in her grasp. Like when you pick up a cat and it just goes all limp and liquid, only a hundred times more adorable.

Because  _ Catra. _

“Feeling better?” she asked in a soft whisper, putting as much care as she could into the words.

Catra was silent, but after a moment nodded.

Marlena smiled, “That’s good,” she gently kissed the top of Catra’s head, “Wanna tell me what that was about?”

She shook her head.

“Later?”

Nod.

“Alright, Pet,” she hummed, “Do you wanna stay like this a bit longer?”

Nod.

Nod.

Nod.

Marlena smiled, and continued to comfort her kitten.

_ It was a fake smile, but one she’d happily wear. _

Obviously it was her threat on the shuttle that caused such a visceral reaction, but what made Marlena’s blood boil was the question of  _ why? _

Was it the phrasing?  _ “Tan your hide,” _ was that it? Must’ve been, but that only made her more curious.

Had someone done that to her in the past?

Did she see someone get their hide  _ “tanned,” _ and think Marlena would do the same to her?

_ What caused this? _

The Underhives were Hellish, and there was truly no  _ end _ to the possible theories as to what could’ve happened.

All Marlena knew was that she was going to find out who or what did this to her Catra, and make them  _ regret it _ .

The stuttered breathing of her kitten was the  _ only _ thing keeping Marlena from going on a warpath.

“I don’t know what I said,” she began, “But whatever you thought I meant, I didn’t.”

Wet, red eyes turned to look up at Marlena, searching for any deceit,  _ “P-Promise..?” _

_ Her heart nearly shattered from just how  _ **_broken_ ** _ she sounded. _

“Yes, Baby,” ever so gently she ran a thumb across Catra’s furry cheek, wiping away the tears and drawing a deep purr from the feline as she leant into the older woman’s touch, “I promise on  _ All that is Holy _ that I would not do it.”

Sharp teeth toyed with her lips as Catra’s eyes dipped lower, too scared and ashamed to look Marlena in the eyes.

_ “N-No whip….?” _

Brown eyes widened in horror,  _ “What?” _ she gasped. Is that what happened to her-

“Ple-ease don’t use a w-whip-” Catra begged, fear in her voice as she began to tear up again.

Marlena gently moved the girl’s head to face her, and brown eyes met mismatched blue and gold. “I will never-  _ NEVER!” _ Marlena raised her voice high enough to stop whatever Catra would say before going back down to a more gentle tone, _“Never_ use a whip on you, Baby-Girl.”

The tears began to well up again, but Catra didn’t look away.

“W-why-”

“Because you’re  _ mine,” _ Marlena answered, “You are  _ mine, _ and I will never truly harm you.” again she thumbed the child’s cheeks, brushing away the small tears that trickled down, “I will protect you with my very life, and if I can stop it, I will protect you from all who would harm you.”

Catra said nothing.

She just leaned further into Marlena’s embrace, her purrs almost as loud as an engine.

_ And Marlena wouldn’t have it any other way. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!
> 
> Woooooo!!! A bit short, but here's my gift to you: a Thing and some good ol motherly love! Hope y'all have a wonderful day!


	15. Confrontation

Exhaustion took Catra not long after Marlena had gotten the child to calm down, the hours of constantly shifting emotions and ever changing perils taking their toll on her tiny body. It wasn’t surprising, of course; such a harrowing experience would have grown men shaking in their boots. Honestly, Marlena was more surprised at the fact the small kitten was even managing to sleep so soundly in the first place.

With slow, gentle movements Marlena combed her fingers through Catra’s thick mane, once more savoring the feeling. The course, hay-like texture that felt brittle to the touch, mixed with the yet unwashed oils from _years_ of living in Underhive squallor. It was strange to think just how much she _missed_ this.

Were this any other creature, Marlena would’ve found it filthy and disgusting; yet she could not feel such emotions.

The hair was beyond filthy, yes, but it was like running her hands through the finest of silks.

 _Then again, that may be due to how she’d nearly_ **_lost_ ** _this feeling._

Guilt twisted her guts into knots as Marlena looked back, and wondered why in the _Emperor’s_ bloody name she ever trust a filthy _menial_ with the protection of her- _Marlena swallowed the lump in her throat as images flashed in her mind from times long-since past, of the_ **_pain_ ** _such memories brought_ -her _charge._

Yes.

Her _charge_ …..

Marlena pulled back her hand, turning away from Catra’s sleeping form and setting about once more donning her plate vestments.

_She had things to attend to._

…………………….

The trek to Medical was a quiet one, her minions and the crew going to admirable lengths to not draw her ire. _They’re learning,_ Marlena smirked. She hated when the idiots didn’t understand when she wanted them to stay the _furthest_ possible distance away without being ejected out of the damn shuttle.

Luckily- _for them_ -Medical wasn’t too far from her quarters, allowing her to meet with Thing about their…..

_“Guest.”_

The sound of the automatic door was drowned out by the absolute _panic_ that filled the room to a disturbing degree.

Without a second’s thought Marlena sprang forth, left hand falling to the hilt on her left hip as her right hand reached for the com bead-

 _“Unnecessary.”_ the slow, mechanical voice of Thing cut her off.

Turning her head Marlena spied the mechanical being standing before a glass enclosure- _the one for observations_ -with… Well, Thing didn’t really have _“expressions,”_ but the tilt of Its hooded head spoke of Its curiosity.

Marlena didn’t trust that.

Stepping to the navy-robed creature, her gaze fell to the girl inhabiting the observation room, and what she found was _strange_.

Gone was the cold, stoic expression and body language from the Cultist shuttle; and in its place there was a panicked, pained and terrified little blonde. Her words were muffled by the glass, but her volume sure wasn’t.

_Girl has lungs like a Manufactorum’s forge-bellows._

Thing seemed _very_ interested in the child’s panic.

Marlena was _not_ amused.

“Explain.” she ordered.

There was a low whirring accompanied by several mechanical _clicks_ as Thing seemed to humm before lazily turning Its lenses to her, the green lights annoyingly bright.

 _“The subject,”_ It began, slow and measured, _“Is still awake.”_

A single chocolate brow arched, “Is that all? Just sedate her.”

_“I did.”_

“Okay..? How much did you give her?”

Thing paused briefly, the lenses moving up and down, studying Marlena’s face before It answered:

_“Twice the normal dosage to put a grown Human male into a chemically induced coma.”_

“What-” she blinked, _“What!?”_

Thing turned to her, head tilt in amusement, _“Fascinating, isn’t it?”_ It asked, _“I almost wish it were a corpse, so I might study it more thoroughly.”_

Marlena stared, gobsmacked, “Are you out of your _mind!?_ What made you think this was a good idea!?”

Machinery hissed and clicked as Thing _“chuckled,”_ once more turning to the terrified child stuck in the room, _“It is an interesting creature, one that I would love to study further to see how similar it is to the standard Human,”_ It shrugged, _“Though that may be my circuits malfunctioning, making me hunger for knowledge.”_

That drew Marlena by surprise.

_What could that mean?_

…………………….

Fear tightly gripped Adora’s heart as her head swiveled back and forth, searching for any sign of comfort in this new, terrifying place. She was in a small, stark-white room. Inside of which, there was only a bed, a few machines nearby- _unconnected to her_ -and four large, black windows that took up nearly the entirety of the wall which began two feet up from the floor, and stretched until they almost met the corners, with only a three inch gap in between.

“Where am I!?” she shouted, fear and panic mixed into a shrill screech, “H-How did I get here!?”

The last thing she remembered was the Wastes. She was dueling that waider when…..

Her skin paled as the memory of the absolute _agony_ flashed through Adora’s mind, steel blue eyes filtering down to where a massive hole should be.

Confusion filled her as she found a thin cast, instead of an open wound or a stump.

“W-Wha-”

A sound to her right made Adora spin, eyes wide and terrified as she spied a woman entering through a hole in the wall. She was tall, clad in crimson power armor and held a complicated expression Adora couldn’t quite translate. Her body language was much the same, hidden beneath the ceramite shell yet faintly recognizable.

She was relaxed, but it was fake, like the many traders and diplomats Adora’s met over the years. Something made her tense, guarded- _distrustful, more like_ -around Adora.

The opening behind the armored woman closed itself with a hydraulic hiss, and it was like nothing was wrong. Just a solid wall with no seam.

The woman moved, heavy steps echoing in the small, enclosed room.

Adora shrank into the medical bed in a vain attempt to keep the woman away, blue eyes never leaving cold, furious brown.

_Why was she angry?_

“So,” the woman spoke in a slow, gravelly drawl, “You’re _‘Adora,’_ aren’t you?”

Adora swallowed the lump in her throat, her anxiety _skyrocketing,_ “W-Where am-”

“I asked you a question!” the woman barked, brows furrowed and lips pulled back in a snarl, “Are you Adora: yes or no!?”

 _“Y-Yes!”_ Adora said- _squeaked_ -to this _absolutely terrifying woman._

The- _scary as Hell_ -woman didn’t seem at all pleased with this information, as evidenced by how her frown deepened and made Adora press herself further into the uncomfortable medical bed.

“Tell me, _Adora,”_ the sheer _venom_ in her voice made Adora shudder in fear, “What is the _last_ thing you remember.”

While it was worded as a question, Adora didn’t need to read too deeply to understand the _order_ for what it was.

With a shaky breath she began “I-I was fighting this raider, in the Wastes. I won-” she winced, blue eyes briefly glancing down at her shin, “A-And then I _lost.”_

“Why were you fighting.”

“Well,” Adora began, “His band attacked the shuttle, and I wanted to protect-” Blue eyes widened to the size of saucers as she sat upright, panic flooding her body. _“Catra!!!”_ Adora shrieked, suddenly remembering her friend.

Where was she?

What _happened?_

_Is Catra safe!?_

Adora’s breathing became shallow and frantic as she looked around the room, “Th-There was an Abhuman girl with me!” she cried, “Black and brown hair from head-to-toe, wi-with dirty clothes!”

Adora could feel herself start to tear up, her panic filling her with so much adrenaline she began to _shake._

The woman’s eyes narrowed, a fire behind her eyes, “Why do you care about her?”

Adora froze, a weight filled her chest as she looked the woman in the eyes. There was nothing but contempt in her eyes as she looked down on Adora, scowling.

 _“What…”_ she whispered faintly, her mind reeling.

 _Did,_ Adora tensed, _Did she not care….?_

Catra was an Abhuman, sure-

_But she wasn’t bad!_

And she was a _child!_ Just like Adora!

“I _said.”_ the woman growled, stepping closer.

_Adora didn’t shrink back._

_“Why_ do you care about her?” The woman’s voice was low and harsh as she forced the words through grit teeth.

“She’s my _friend.”_ Adora says, her own eyes narrowed at the looming brunette above her.

 _“Liar,”_ the woman spat angrily, “She’s an Abhuman.”

Adora could feel her hands shaking as her fists clenched tightly, knuckles white and she could feel her nails digging into her palms.

A glint of bronze catches her eye and Adora glances down, spying one of the sabers she fought with earlier attached to the woman’s right hip.

Brown eyes widen before the woman barks “Don’t _even-!”_

Adora ignores her, the blonde’s blood _boiling._

In a flash Adora’s drawn the blade in her left hand and manages a single diagonal swipe across the woman’s cuirass before she’s shoved back, an audible _crack_ filling the room as Adora flies out of the bed.

There’s a deep, radiating pain in Adora’s chest as she wheezes, one of her ribs cracked.

_She doesn’t care._

When she faced the raider in the Wastes, Adora used a more classical style like that used by Naval Officers, but she was _pissed._ So instead she adjusted her stance, feet spread farther apart and knees bent, with her arm held across her chest with the hilt of her blade resting to the right of her face.

 _Cross Cut_ seems more appropriate.

More _aggressive._

“Oh you _fucking-!”_

Adora didn’t let her finish, lunging with the left foot in a downward-left cut that the woman had to leap back in order to evade. Then again with a downward cut to the right before sidestepping from an enhanced kick.

“Where’s Catra!” Adora demanded, lunging for a quick push-cut before back stepping from another kick.

The woman growled, her scowl morphing into an enraged snarl, “I won’t let-”

 _“Where is she!?”_ Adra demanded rapidly advancing with several diagonal cuts delivered in quick succession, “I swear if you hurt her-”

Another _crack_ filled the room as Adora was sent flying through the air.

She’d stepped too harshly on her injured leg, and a power-armor enhanced kick was Adora’s reward.

And the glass-breaking impact she felt as she hit one of the windows certainly sent home just how _badly_ Adora messed up.

 _“Hacch!”_ Adora coughed, and even through the spotty blackness of her vision, she could still see crimson stains on her chest.

_Oh fuck….._

_Oooooh this was a terrible idea._

The woman kicked aside Adora’s saber- _when did she get so close?_ -and glaring down at the blonde.

“If she didn’t care about you…” the woman growls, kneeling down to shove a needle in Adora’s chest, “I would splatter your brains across the wall, _Alethros.”_

_“W-Wha….?”_

The woman scowled, grabbing Adora by her collar and throwing her onto the bed.

 _Literally_.

It would’ve hurt if Adora didn’t feel _totally_ numb from whatever _wonderful_ thing was injected into her.

The woman scoffed as she regarded Adora, “If Catra didn’t have a _fondness_ for you, Alethros, I would kill you where you lay,” then she turned away, and under her breath muttered _“It’s only fair to take away something that bastard_ **_stole_ ** _to begin with.”_

Adora blinked, confused beyond measure.

_What….?_

…………………….

_“What…?”_ a small, weak voice croaked through the drugged up haze.

Marlena turned to the _Alethros,_ the frown not once leaving her face as she regarded the girl who nearly _attacked_ her Kitten. “What?” she asks, tone harsh and abrupt, “Did you actually think you were their _daughter?”_

The girl turns to her, hazy eyes wide and scared, _“W-w-what-”_

“They took you!” Marlena snaps, “Randor can’t have children, so he _steals_ them!”

She can see the disbelief, the fear, the _panic_ swirling around in those blue pools.

She _knows_ her anger is misplaced…..

_But it doesn’t take the pain away._

“What, did you think you were Mommy and Daddy’s _perfect_ little Angel?” she mocks, “Did you think they _cared?”_ Marlena can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from her chest, nor does she want to. “He lied!”

She’s shaking her head now, _“N-No…”_

“Yes!” Marlena rounds on the child, marching up until she’s right in front of the shivering little _shit._ “Alethros is a barren little _fuck_ who couldn’t knock a woman up if his life depended on it, so he takes and _takes_ and hides it behind his _‘private lifestyle’!”_

Marlena can see the tears, and _knows_ she’s gone too far, “So he steals children and _alters_ them to make them fit _his_ life!” she roared instead, “He’ll steal a woman’s son on the promise of _love_ and _a good home,_ then kick her to the curb and slander her name until she has _nothing left!”_

Her own eyes are burning, but she can’t stop, “And that pretty little bitch just _lets him-”_

 _“D-Don’t talk about Mother!!!”_ the girl shrieks, tears streaming down her eyes as she violently shakes her head in denial, “Ma-Mama _loves_ me! She loved me as a b-baby and-and sh-she loves me now!”

“Then _why_ were you on that shuttle, huh!?” Marlena shot back, “Off to some other House in some other Hive, right!?”

The girl pales, eyes wide in stunned horror.

Marlena scoffs, turning on her heel and marching out of the reopened door, even as the girl began sobbing behind her.

Part of her felt guilty.

 _She’s an Alethros,_ she reminds herself, _There’s nothing to be guilty about._

But a stray thought flutters to the front of her mind, one she desperately tries to stamp out.

_Wasn’t he, too?_

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEARS!!! WOOOOOO!!! 2020's over! Also sorry for any typos, may or may not have had a lot of vodka and wine.
> 
> Hope y'all like startin the year with some angst, hope y'all enjoy and I just wanna say I fuckin love how nice y'all arre  
> okaYj No more vodka I sleepp


	16. Chapter 16

The hydraulic hiss of the observatory’s door effectively silenced the sobbing from the child, but it did little to diminish the growing guilt welling up in Marlena’s breast. She was angry; it doesn’t justify her actions, but  _ Throne Dammit _ she couldn’t stop herself! Just  _ thinking _ about that name filled her with a rage that burned like a blistering inferno.

Glowing green lenses peaked from beneath a navy hood, very briefly holding her gaze before once again switching to one of the many cogitator screens, each of which showed some medical charts too complicated for Marlena to understand.

_ “I thank you for your assistance,” _ It began,  _ “These readings-” _

“Shut your speakers before I blow your _ fucking head off.” _ she snarled, knuckles bone white beneath their ceramite plating.

The clinking of Its metallic limbs was the only response as it waved her off, focussing entirely on the mess of binary on the screens.

Marlena didn’t care, storming out of Medical and heading back to her quarters. She was too pissed, and needed more than  _ anything _ to be near her precious Kitten. The week Marlena spent thinking she was  _ gone _ …..

It was  _ Hell. _

Thankfully, that didn’t matter anymore.

Catra was here, she was  _ safe, _ and  **_nothing_ ** would change that.

Marlena had the funds and manpower to make  _ damn _ sure things stayed that way.

She stepped aside as a crewman-  _ some cyborg chick _ -rushed down the hall, her face twitching erratically, no doubt from malfunctioning augmetics.

_ She seemed familiar….. _

_ “Whatever,” _ she shrugged,  _ “Just another dime-a-dozen crewmate.” _ Marlena had so many people under her employ that it was physically  _ impossible _ to keep track of them all without having a cogitator implanted directly into her skull. Safe to say she  _ wasn’t _ interested in turning into a servitor.

No, that was reserved for people who  _ royally _ pissed her off-

_ “Captain Marlena to the cockpit!” _ the shrill cry of the pilot echoed through the metal halls of the shuttle,  _ “Captain Marlena report to the cockpit  _ **_immediately_ ** _!!!” _

-Or pilots who couldn’t give her  _ one fucking moment of peace. _

With a frustrated sigh Marlena changed course, turning around and instead heading towards the front of the ship. Oh large planetary cargo-vessels, how sweet you are for storage but how  _ frustrating _ you were for a commute.

There was something off about the crew that had Marlena begin to worry, however. The closer she came to the front, the more stunned and panicked the crew seemed to become. One girl-  _ Lena, her favorite recaff girl _ -was sitting on the floor, her knees held against her chest as the girl sobbed uncontrollably whilst gently rocking back and forth.

Marlena almost stopped to comfort the girl-  _ Lena  _ **_was_ ** _ her favorite _ -but decided against it, instead focussing on finding out the problem.

Steeling herself, Marlena activated the door controls.

With a  _ hiss _ the door slid open, allowing her to take a step forward.

“What’s all the…”

Brown eyes widened as her jaw fell.

Roaring fires cut through the thick miasma of desert storms and industrial smog, bright and burning with a fury only matched by the number of explosions visible, even from this distance.

Hive Nirah  _ Burned. _

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE!!! As usual: sorry for the length and sorry it took so long, work's kickin my ass. But! I WILL try to get back on track!
> 
> Keep the comments comin, love to hear from y'all!


	17. Chapter 17

**_[ALERT! ALERT! ALERT!]_ **

Catra leapt from the bed with a startled shriek, her fur puffed on end and tail rigid as a blaring siren screeched loudly through the room. She struggled to muffle the noise, thankful beyond measure of the gifts Marlena placed in her ears that helped to lessen the torture of the warning.

 **_[ALL HANDS REPORT TO ASSIGNED POSITIONS!]_ **

“W-What’s going on?” she stuttered tiredly, exhaustion making the small feline sluggish even in such a panic-inducing event.

Mismatched eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of Marlena. She would know what’s going on! She _owns_ the ship, so she **_must_ ** know!

With that line of thought, Catra knew her next course of action. Leaping back onto the bed, Catra began to sniff the sheets, inhaling all the scents available. Sweet, sugary, earthy, gunsmoke, blood-

Her ears swivelled.

The door’s mechanics clicked and clacked as the heavy metal slid into the wall, a figure clad in metal entered. She had dark- _almost black_ -hair done in a short braid; one green eye the color of jade, the other a milky white with a silvery scar cutting through the dark color of her brow and cheek.

“Mistress Catra,” she began, “The Lady wishes-”

Catra didn’t hear the rest.

_On account of her bolting out the room from between the woman’s legs._

The feline could hear the woman squawk in surprise; but Catra didn’t care, already scampering down the hallway on all fours, claws digging into the metal flooring to give purchase and help her weave through the sea of tall humans. The crewmen ran in all directions as the sirens blared, shouting and stomping; but Catra was too experienced to be squished or trampled, having lived in much more densely packed areas.

“Hey-”

“Ow!”

“Watch it!”

Catra does not deny bumping into people; she simply doesn’t care enough to acknowledge it, hyper-focussed on following Marlena’s scent through the crowded halls.

“Wait!” the woman cried, and Catra can hear her metal boots crashing against the floor, “Stop!”

Catra, obviously, did not stop.

Fucking _duh._

_Don’t be scared, little Abhuman, the Arbites won’t beat you!_

Yeah, heard _that_ one before.

…………………….

“I want those gunners ready yesterday, load the Heavy Bolters with HEAP! Get the Quartermaster on the line, tell him I want all las-packs fully charged and all weapons fully loaded!” Marlena grabbed an ensign by the shoulder, shaking him roughly, “I want Thing out of Medical and here! _Now!”_

He nodded, rushing through the doors as soon as Marlena let him go.

“Status!” she barked into the com-bead.

 _“The Saint’s Vigil is in orbit awaiting our arrival, Ma’am!”_ the pilot responded.

“Why the fuck aren’t there any craft leaving the atmosphere?”

_“They don’t know, Ma’am, I can barely get in contact- We might be getting jammed!”_

_Fuck!_ Marlena wanted to swear, “Keep trying, if that doesn’t work, try Hive Nirah!” If the situation wasn’t so tense, Marlena would be swearing up a _storm_ right now.

Things were dire. Hive Nirah was under attack from within, and from the look of things it seemed like an all-out _invasion._

_The fact that just hours ago Marlena engaged forces of the Arch-Enemy only worsened the situation._

There were always small pockets of cultists no matter where you went, but _this?_ Massive explosions on nearly every level; gunfire so numerous it could be heard from miles away; and jammers so powerful that even _The Saint’s Vigil_ could barely send or receive information. And that was just the information available!

There was no telling the situation in the Hive itself! For all they knew the entire PDF had turned Traitor and the Gangs were the only ones fighting for order!

 _“Bad”_ couldn’t even come within a mile of just how _fucked_ the situation was.

Marlena needed to get Catra off this dust-ball and into space before-

_Out of the corner of her eye Marlena spied a black-brown blur rocketing towards her face._

The armored woman stumbled when the speeding fur-missle smashed against her face as fluffy arms wrapped themselves around her throat, a deep rumbling filling her right ear as a fuzzy face rubbed itself against her cheek.

 _“Speak of the Devil and She shall appear,”_ Marlena smirked.

Not soon after one of her minions burst through the open doors before snapping to attention, her dark skin slightly damp from running and her one green eye held a bit of fear.

“Ma’am, VIP secured!” she announced, but Marlena could hear the slight warble in her voice.

Instead of outright reaming the minion in front of everyone, Marlena was feeling generous.

_Exclusively due to the small Fluff-Angel latched to her, and her adorable tail wrapped around Marlena’s wrist._

“I thank you, Zofia,” the girl looked stunned that Marlena remembered her name, “Please return to your position with the others, and prepare for deployment.”

She stood there a moment, before snapping out of her stupor and running out of the room.

“You ditched her the second the door opened, didn’t you?” Marlena asked, rubbing Catra’s back as the kitten purred louder, nodding.

“Atta girl.” she chuckled, amused at the kitten’s antics.

A flash of blue caught Marlena’s eye. Turning slightly, Marlena saw Things standing in the doorway, metal hands hung casually at Its sides. If the metal creature felt any emotions, Marlena would assume _“boredom”_ at the moment, and that filled her with a sliver of confidence.

“Maja!” Marlena barked over the roar of commotion in the control center, “You’re in command while I’m away!”

Marlena didn’t care if the woman heard her or not, she had a mission.

…………………….

Adora stared off into space, eyes focussed on her feet but her mind somewhere thousands of miles away.

 _“Was it true?”_ She wondered, pulling her knees tighter against her chest. So many promises over the years, so many oaths sworn…..

_“But were they really?”_

As much as Adora wished- _no matter how desperate_ -she saw the truth. She remembered every word, every smile, every gesture and every comfort. She remembered every time her Mother would comfort her from a bad dream; how her Father would laugh at a silly joke she’d told.

 _They were_ **_all_ ** _lies._

All their promises were non-committal, or worded in double-speak Adora was too blinded to pick up on.

Too _trusting._

 _“We won’t sell you, Darling!”_

_“Sell”_ implies a monetary transaction; she could’ve been _traded_ or _bartered_ instead.

Before, Adora would’ve considered that paranoia talking, that she merely let the words of a mad _Crime-Lord_ get the better of her. Adora would’ve denied it all, everything that woman implied, every accusation and _every_ slander. Only…..

 _She_ **_knew_ ** _it was all true._

Adora knows, because she has a brother. A brother _neither_ parent ever mentioned, and a brother neither of them ever acknowledged existing. A brother that Adora overheard served in the Astra Militarum, and was sent off to be in the _Cadet Corps._

How many other _“siblings”_ did she have?

How many other _“children”_ did her parents sell off?

_“Am I even their daughter….?”_

_Probably not,_ the rational part of her mind thought. These past weeks taught her a lot, honestly. Like about how many _lies_ she’s been fed over the years.

_What else was a lie-_

_“Oof!”_

Suddenly Adora was on the floor, wind knocked from her lungs as she found herself tackled off the medical bed. Rapidly blinking away the black spots that floated and fluttered around her vision, Adora looked down to see a pair of large, wet and mismatched eyes looking up at her from her chest.

Then she heard the deep, rumbling purrs that roared like an engine in the quiet, sound-proof room. Adora felt her throat tighten when she recognized the stilted and frantic pace of the rumbles, the kind Catra would get when trying to calm herself from a nightmare.

In response Adora moved her arms, embracing the smaller girl and pulling her close in a tight hug. Catra snaked her arms under Adora’s back, clinging tightly as she shook.

Adora didn’t like that.

So she sat up, still holding Catra but running a hand through her long, splotchy mane, cooing and whispering softly as she leaned her head against the top of Catra’s.

Adora didn’t like when Catra shook and shivered in fear and anxiety.

She _hated_ it.

It reminded Adora of how she feels, about the uncertainty her new knowledge has granted her; and the fear she has of who she really is.

Something about how small and fragile Catra looked made Adora feel protective, and urged her to make her _happy._

 _Then again,_ she mused, _I’ve always loved small things._

Especially small and fluffy things.

The fluffier the better.

A loud _tap_ at the entrance made Adora turn her gaze from the shivering girl and see a pair standing at the open _“door.”_ One was the woman from earlier, Marlena, looking on with a… _Complicated_ expression Adora wasn’t familiar with.

The other was taller, wearing a large, dark blue coat that flowed like robes. Metal arms and legs could be seen- _though only from the knee down_ -with bronze hydraulics underneath a silvery steel exterior. The black cuirass was a mirror polish, with light blue trim and silver rivets. But it was the lenses that truly unnerved her, emotionless but with a strange feeling of…..

_Something._

Adora didn’t know, and she didn’t like it.

“Sorry to interrupt this little _moment,”_ there was a certain degree of hostility to that word, “But we need to hurry.”

Neither Adora nor Catra moved.

_“Now.”_

Catra nodded, carefully removing herself from Adora and helping the taller girl up, much to her own confusion.

“What’s going on?” she asked Catra, her voice soft as to not make her any more anxious than she already was.

Catra glanced at Adora, mismatched blue-and-gold meeting steely blue, before she answered “There’s gonna be troble-”

 _“Trouble.”_ Marlena corrected as she strode ahead.

 _“-Trouble,”_ Catra corrected, and Adora _swore_ she could see her black cheeks tint a bit, “And Marlena is gonna make It help us.” She explained.

Adora cocked a brow, “It?”

 _“Me.”_ the metal being in blue answered, walking behind the pair.

_Adora suddenly didn’t like this plan….._

…………………….

_“Fuck!!!”_ Nikola shrieked as the barricade she was taking cover behind exploded into shrapnel, flinging dist and rock directly into her face.

She responded by poking out of cover, “Eat lead, you motherfucks!” and depressed the trigger on her autogun, spitting round after round of .50 Fenwolf into enemy Cultists.

“Sergeant!” the voice of corporal Antoni met Nikola’s ears through the radio in her helmet. Once more hiding behind cover, Nikola turned to spot the corporal jogging up behind her, rocket launcher in hand.

He threw himself against the blown out wall she was taking cover behind, “Look what I snagged from Third!”

“Shut up and fire the damn thing!” she snapped, briefly exiting cover to pop off a few rounds.

The corporal nodded, running out of cover before dropping to one knee.

_BOOM!!!_

And just like that, the MG nest the Cultists made was nothing but a pile of rubble.

“Oh _Hell_ yeah! WOO!” Antoni whooped, pumping a fist in excitement before dropping the spent tube and diving back into cover.

“Nice shot,” Nikola commented, “Now where the Hell’s the rest of the squad?”

Antoni shrugged, sitting against the destroyed wall as he unfolded the stock of his autogun, “Fuck if I know,” he said, “We got split on the way back from 4th Ave. when a Chimera sent a shell our way.”

Nikola sighed, exhausted beyond measure as she switched out the spent magazine, _“Great!”_ she huffed, “the _Cultists_ have armor, and _I_ can’t even vox for reinforcements! _Wonderful!”_

Antoni chuckled at his superior, lightly bumping her on the shoulder, “Hey, if you wanted logistics you should’ve joined the Guard! We’re PDF-”

 _“We make do!”_ Nikola finished the quote, pulling back the bolt and feeding a new round into her weapon. “Yes, I _know,_ I’ve _heard_ the damn slogan a thousand times- You know that’s total bullshit, right?”

“Wait- _Really?”_ Antoni asked, wide-eyed and surprised as Nikola took a few more pot-shots at the enemy down the street.

“Oh yeah!” she confirms, watching as a Cultist’s head exploded from the impact of the .50 Fenwolf, “Served in the Guard for three years, it’s just as bad as it is here-” _bang!_ “-Well, ‘cept we get actual _food_ in the PDF.”

“You were in the _Guard?”_ Antoni asks before tapping her shoulder twice.

Nikola switches positions, letting him take the corner while she crouches down, “Yep.” she nods, before once more trying her com-bead.

“This is Sergeant Nikola of Bakker 3-3, requesting any available units to converge on Saint’s Row-'' she ducked as a round _whizzed_ over her head, “I repeat: _Any_ available units converge on Saint’s Row, I’m on my own and need _immediate_ assistance, Over!” Ending the transmission Nikola raised her autogun, blindly spraying behind her and towards the enemy.

Antoni continued taking whatever shots he could, sending hot lead into the filthy Nurglites as they continued to either rush in suicidal charges or pop out for quick pot-shots of their own.

“Shitty flak armor, lack of ammo, shitty comms,” Nikola listed, poking her head out to try and spot enemy movement, “It’s like the Guard all over again.” she sighed, “I-”

 _“Rraaaaaggh!!!”_ a deranged man cried to her right, running straight at her with a large machete-like blade raised.

Nikola let the 50 bark as it tore the idiotic Cultist to pieces, literally tearing him limb-from-limb in a hail of automatic fire.

“I fucking _hate_ the Guard!” she roared, throwing the empty mag at the pile of meat for good measure before loading a fresh one.

All twenty-five rounds of Blessed, Cultist-killing lead.

If only they had some actual fucking _support,_ maybe then they wouldn’t be so _fucked!_

 _“Rocket rocket rocket!!!”_ Antoni called, turning around and running to the opposite street.

Nikola moved further down the street, using the other buildings as cover rather than risk going into open ground.

The ground shook as the corner they were hiding behind was blown to pieces in a fiery explosion, sending shrapnel and debris every which way.

_“Aargh!!”_

Including Antoni’s back.

Nikola shook her head, disappointed in the corporal before turning around and opening fire on two Cultists that pursued them.

Shitty flak armor that doesn’t stop shit, low on ammo and no support…..

_Yep._

Two more Cultists fell, and a dull _click_ filled her ears. Looking to her right, Nikola spotted a grenade without its pin.

She sighed.

 **_Just_ ** _like the Guard….._

…………………….

The Void.

Most saw it as a terrifying, endless expanse. An abyss for which there is naught but certain doom. Where one little mistake could mean the death of _thousands_ aboard an Imperial vessel.

Alehir Vallessus disagreed.

His red eyes scanned across the holo-screens of his personal quarters, having stepped away from his desk and terminal. The sickly green text of the cogitator burned his retina after so many sleepless days.

 _“It has been two weeks,”_ he mused, _“Perhaps a short rest would do me some good?”_

Alehir absently scratched at his chin, the scars still fresh and tender, though he felt no discomfort. He’d had his pain receptors dulled three centuries ago. Yet no matter his searching, he could never find an augmetic for dampening itchiness.

If anything, all the augmetics he’d received over his many centuries have only made the itching _worse._

 _“Fething Taint,”_ he cursed, gritting his sharpened teeth. He just _knew_ it must be some form of pox delivered by a servant of the Arch-Enemy that he’d slain. Something that, while not _corrupting,_ certainly annoyed the _fething_ **_shit_ ** out of him.

Or maybe it was just his centuries-old mind playing tricks on him in the throes of dementia?

Unlikely, but possible.

Perhaps he should go see the Magos about this….?

 _Alehir steadfastly_ **_refused_ ** _to acknowledge if his albino cheeks grew a light shade of red._

Coughing to clear his mind of such thoughts, Alehir turned back to his holo-screen.

The endless expanse of the void was, to him, a beautiful sight. One that inspired true awe and perfectly showed the tenacity of the Human Will.

The evidence of which floated before him now, in the center of the holo-screen.

A massive crimson orb took up the majority of its surface, millions pixels painting a beautifully detailed portrait. The desolate, polluted wastes of crimson ash spread for hundreds of miles before meeting hulking, titanic spires that reached the very atmosphere itself.

Polskarii-Prime, one of the first planets Alehir rediscovered for the Imperium. It was a confoundingly paradoxical mish-mash of modern civilization and tribalistic feudalism built upon a heap of scrap and sand of a world. The people on its surface even refer to it by its old name, _“Urthan.”_

It is absolutely confounding, yet _incredibly_ valuable.

With a population of uncountable millions the planet produced the most recruits for his Crusade than any other in the system. The sheer amount of weapons, ammunition, and general manufacturing was also _just_ as important. It was the only non-Forge World that could fully supply its own Regiments without any aid, and _that_ was a massive boon to his supply lines. Even the Abhuman Regiments improved his own fighting force with more diverse and specialized troops, increasing combat effectiveness by a substantial margin.

Looking over his shoulder, Alehir confirmed the date on his cogitator, nodding in satisfaction.

The Imperial Tithe should be ready for collection in a few weeks.

That would _certainly_ bolster Alehir’s forces on this arduous campaign of his. Segmentum Pacificus was a wild, untamed wilderness of Imperial Space; one wrought with many dangers, and precisely why he’d been sent here more than a quarter-millennium ago.

Suddenly his augmetic ears picked up something-

_Someone was running towards his quarters._

Before he’d even turned around there was a quick _bangbangbang_ against his reinforced door.

 _“Lord Castellan!”_ a woman cried before banging again.

Alehir leaped to his cogitator, pressing a button to slide the door open, making the poor girl nearly fall flat on her face before she managed to steady herself.

She was a young one, fresh out of training with the perfect skills for working on a flagship: she made **_DAMN_ ** good fething recaff.

She quickly righted herself, body going rigid as she threw a quick salute, “Lord Castellan!” she barked, tawny brown fur shining dimly in the lights of his quarters.

An Abhuman from the very planet behind him.

“Report.” Alehir commanded, his raspy voice booming but not yelling, the scratchiness of past injuries rearing themselves.

“Sir!” she nods, falling at parade rest, “There’s a distress call from the surface of Urthan, Sir! Lord Admiral Vull’An is requesting your presence at the Bridge!”

Alehir was already moving, marching out the door with the ensign following close behind, “Send word to Callix, tell him I will send orders once the situation is made more clear; tell General Evelynn to have her armored divisions to start warming their engines.” he paused, “And contact the Magos, I may have need of her.”

The ensign nods, snapping a quick salute.

“Yes Sir, Lord Castellan Hordak!”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray! A chapter that isn't short as shit! Hope y'all like it, and I hope y'all are doin well!
> 
> Also: terribly sorry for the last section, I wrote that after "The Girl in the Spire," and updated it at about 2am. So if there's anything that sounds weird, that's the reason.


	18. Chapter 18

The bridge was a veritable cacophony of activity as ensigns ran to and fro, cogitators blared and shrieked. All the while men and women had to scream and shout to be heard over one another as the situation on the ground ever changed as tides shifted, ground was lost and regained all in a matter of minutes on thousands of fronts across millions and millions of squads.

Were Alehir a man of poetics he might’ve called it the perfect symphony of the chaos of war made manifest.

Or some such _drivel._

“Gentlemen,” Alehir spoke, calm and clear, “We must discuss the situation on Polskarii-Prime.”

“That _is_ why I requested your presence.” Vull’An spoke, his tone sarcastic and voice low, unamused with Alehir’s time-wasting. The man was tall, only a foot shorter than Alehir’s own impressive seven-foot six-inches, with a build and musculature uncommon among his type in the Admiralty. Blue eyes sharpened as he looked upon the holo-projecting before them, surveying the situation from above.

The woman beside him scoffed, her dark face pulled into a sneer as she- _figuratively speaking_ -looked down on the much larger Lord Admiral, “Show some respect, _Pleb,”_ she sneered in disgust, “Tradition is meant to be honored, not _brushed aside.”_ She accompanied her words by throwing back her own ebony locks, golden beads of her dreadlocks clinking and twinkling as she did.

“No one asked _your_ opinion,” Vull’An snarled, “You and your _worthless_ kind have _no reason_ intruding on-”

“Enough.” Alehir commanded, red eyes narrowing as he watched these _children_ squabble amongst themselves.

“Sir!” Vull’An turned to him, indignant and infuriated, “She has _no right-”_

“The situation on Polskarii-Prime is _far_ more important than either of your bickering.” a third voice threw in, as exasperated and exhausted as Alehir felt at the moment. General Aveline stood at a parade rest, looking over the maps shown across their table on the bridge. Green eyes narrowed and her freckled cheeks were marred with a bitter snarl. “If we don’t act soon, it may be too late.”

Alehir nods, “She is right.”

“Sir-”

“Madame Malika and her congregation,” Alehir interrupted, eyes narrow, “Are very much appreciated, especially with evacuation efforts.”

The smaller woman smiles smugly, her pristine white robes shifting as she brought her hands to her gold-ornamented breast, making the symbol of the Aquila.

“It would be my _honor_ to aid the Faithful children of our glorious Father.” the Theocrat intoned in holy reverence.

“That includes the Abhuman populace.” Alehir said.

To say Malika stepped back in shock would be a disservice to the look of utter _horror_ and _disgust_ on her face.

“I refuse!” she all but _screeched,_ “Those _filthy_ Mutants are not but a mockery of our Divine Master!”

“The Emperor had Abhumans serve during the Great Crusade,” Alehir reminded, “Would you imply _He_ would condemn those _He_ welcomed into the Imperium with open arms?”

That shut her up. Alehir was amused at how she bowed and shamefully mumbled _“I forget myself,”_ under her breath.

Honestly, Alehir was of the same mind as Vull’An: he held no love for the theocrats he was forced to ally with. Unlike Vull’An, however, Alehir recognized the value of several Pilgrim Vessels at his beck and call.

Pilgrim Vessels that could hold tens of _thousands_ of refugees.

With that little _spat_ out of the way, Alehir once more focussed on the meeting. Around him were only Vull’An, Malika and Aveline physically in attendance; the rest of his generals were prepping their men, but were listening in for vital information.

“The objective is simple: Push back the forces of the Arch-Enemy.” Alehir began, “The execution is much harder.”

Aveline nodded, “From what little we can get from local chatter, the enemy is numerous, well armed, and the attack _very_ well planned.” the redhead turned to face Alehir, “Across the surface, there are over fifteen seperate campaigns all happening at once across all the different Hive Cities. _Simultaneously.”_ she emphasized.

The implications spoke _volumes._

“Then we _aren’t_ dealing with a mass _‘Cultist Uprising’_ as initially theorized.” Vull’An frowned.

Alehir shared his colleagues’s feelings on the situation, but remained calm.

“Where is resistance lowest?”

“Hives Torun, Lekno, Jani, Ostoja, Rus and Galakia.” Aveline answered swiftly.

“Highest?” Alehir asked.

 _“Hive Nirah.”_ a cool, mechanical voice spoke up. Turning his head, Alehir spied a woman dressed in purple robes, with black carapace and iron-colored, skeletal limbs. Her mouth and lower jaw was replaced with a vox hailer, grafted to pale white skin which connected to a boxy metal pack through a series of hoses and wires.

Purple eyes glowed as they locked onto Alehir’s red.

“Magos Allea,” Alehir nodded, “I was under the impression you would be joining this meeting _in person.”_ he prompted, knowing she would answer.

The puppet waved dismissively, artificial eyes rolling sarcastically in its skull, _“I am coordinating a planet-wide information gathering operation as we speak.”_ Allea spoke through the puppet, _“And far too busy to waste time in travelling across this massive vessel for a simple meeting.”_

Alehir cocked a brow.

The puppet rolled its artificial eyes, and a stream of binary sharply rang through the room, causing all but Alehir to wince.

Suddenly the image on the holo-projector changed, shifting from a map of Polskarii-Prime to a single Hive City. Each of its many hundreds of levels were highlighted or marked in some way, showing pockets of resistance against a near-literal _horde_ of the forces of the Dark Gods.

 _“I have a detailed map of the most heavily contested Hive on the planet,”_ the puppet explains, _“And arguably the most valuable.”_

“The bottom levels are all gold,” Malika points out, “Why is this?”

 _“That, Child,”_ Allea condescended through the puppet’s vox, _“Is the Abhuman slums of the city. They are slowly climbing up, killing Cultists by the hundreds.”_ a distorted, crackly chuckle flitted through the hailer, _“There are even some hab-blocks where the blood comes up to your shins.”_

The holy woman looked ready to explode, red in the face, “And how do you know they aren’t slaughtering and raping their way through good, _pure_ Human homes as we speak!?” she screeched petulantly.

Allea chuckled through her puppet, amusement crackling through the static, _“Because the Cultists are screaming for reinforcements over open channels,”_ the puppet leant forward, glowing eyes half-lidded in amusement, _“Child.”_

“Magos Allea,” Alehir interrupted before there was a brawl- _one-way slaughter_ -in the command room, “Our communications are being jammed, even our Astropath is having difficulty,” fully turning to the puppet, Alehir looked it in the eyes, “Can you patch us through to the commander on Hive Nirah?”

The puppet cocked a brow, and he could almost _hear_ Allea asking _“Are you serious?”_

Another string of sharp binary spewed from the hailer, soon replaced by thick static mixed with heavy gunfire and near deafening explosions.

 _“...Nee-...Ree-forc-ts…”_ came the crackly, distorted voice over the vox.

“This is Lord Castellan Hordak,” Alehir boomed, knowing the connection was shit, “Do you read?”

_“Ye-h? W-l ’m... Leman fucking Russ, who the-....’s in charge!?”_

Alehir suppressed a frown at the disrespect, “This is Lord Castellan Hordak of the _Vengeance Lance,_ requesting an immediate update of the tactical situation on the surface.”

There was a brief pause over the vox.

_“........oh FUCK”_

…………………….

Adora tried- _desperately_ -to not feel discomfort at the current situation. By trying to ignore the very sharp, very _fast_ spinning saw blades currently inching closer to her body. Her very small, weak, fleshy, _not-at-all_ saw resistant body.

Oh who was she kidding-

_She was absolutely fucking terrified!!!_

_“Stop squirming,”_ the terrifying blue Daemon spoke, _“The blades may slip if you continue to fidget.”_

Adora tried her best to stay still, her body going so rigid her muscles burned from how tightly they tensed up. However, that only caused her to shake from the strain on her body, making her small mind panic as tears began welling in her eyes.

“Calm down,” the woman- _Marlena, Adora reminded herself_ -spoke up from her seat, her expression bored as she watched on, “It’s not that bad.”

_Not that bad!?_

Adora wanted to _scream._

_You’re wearing Power Armor, you’re not allowed to say that!!!_

“Oh don’t give me that _look,”_ she rolled her eyes, “You don’t see Catra panicking, do you?”

Glancing to the side, Adora looked over to see Catra calm as can be. She was smiling as her tail lazily swished back and forth, absently humming a random tune.

Like nothing was happening.

Yeah.

Y’know.

 _Except the fucking_ **_saw blades_ ** _cutting metal around her body!_

Both Adora and Catra stood in place, standing straight with their arms raised to their sides. As they did, dozens of metal limbs held sheets of metal, the blue-robed _monster_ controlling machines to cut the plates to size.

_While they were held against their bodies!_

Realistically, Adora understood- _or at least she_ **_thought_ ** _she understood_ -the situation they were in. There was something happening outside, and they were being fitted for clothing and armor _“just in case”_ As Marlena put it.

Still…..

_Why were they cutting the plates so close to their bodies!?_

“To get the best possible fit.” Marlena said.

Adora blinked.

_Did she say that out loud….?_

“Yes,” Marlena nods, “You did.”

Adora could feel her face warming as embarrassment set in, quickly drowned in cold _terror_ as the roar of saws cutting through metal filled her ears.

“Armor isn’t something you just _put on,”_ she scoffs, “Not the _good_ shit, anyway. This isn’t some flak armor they give to the PDF or Guard Regiments,” Marlena smirked, “No, I’m giving you two carapace armor of the _highest_ quality… Within time constraints.”

 _“A flexible internal layer,”_ the monster begins, _“Tempered dura-steel plating with a thin Adamantium outer shell; integrated vox communication relays with built in com beads; and a reactive bio-scanner that will release medication upon injury.”_

Marlena nods, “Basically, I’m giving you two the _best_ armor possible, without giving you both small sets of Power Armor.”

Though under her breath, Adora heard her mumble _“If we were on my ship I could just cram you into a Squat set…”_

Squat?

_Like the exercise….?_

_“Done.”_ the monster announced, the saws and other mechanical arms retracted.

Catra stretched her limbs, even bending her back…

 _Wow,_ Adora blinked, _She can bend_ **_really_ ** _far._

_Was that a cat thing?_

Adora wasn’t really familiar with cats, so she had no idea.

“How long until the cuirass are finished?” Marlena asked, walking over to pet Catra on the head.

 _“Soon.”_ It responded, before lifting a single robed hand, pointing towards the door. _“Leave.”_

They wasted _no_ time in getting out of there, and Adora was once more walking beside Catra. Watching as the girl went from carefree and cheerful, humming a tune to a song only she knew; to shy and fidgety, eyes darting around the halls as men and women ran past.

It both amazed and saddened Adora to see her friend like that. To switch from happy and _calm_ to shy and fearful like the flip of a switch…..

It _hurt._

She wasn’t sure why, but it did.

Stepping closer, Adora gently moved her hand, touching Catra’s fuzzier one. She nearly jumped, her eyes shooting to her left to see what Adora was doing, then up to Adora’s eyes.

Adora’s smiled, gently grasping Catra’s hand in her own, and once more feeling the pads of her hands- _paws?_ -that were both soft and rough all at once.

Catra smiled back, albeit more timid, but no less warm. Her more cagey stance grew more relaxed, and her tail lazily swung behind her.

She could also _feel_ the anger radiating off Marlena, burning and murderous.

…………………….

Marlena opened the door to her quarters, stepping inside and gesturing for the two girls to come inside. “Come in,” she smiled, “I have some things to give you.”

Catra went through, but a firm hand on Adora’s shoulder made the blonde stop, “Hey, Baby?” Marlena asked.

Her heart melted when Catra turned to her, mane fluffy as she poked out from beneath the blankets.

 _“Good Kitten,”_ she wanted to coo and pet her, but first…..

“I have to talk to _Adora_ real quick,” she hoped Catra didn’t pick up on the venom in her voice, “Make yourself comfy, okay?”

Catra looked tense, almost _scared,_ but she nodded anyway.

Marlena continued smiling, even as the door shut and she dragged _Adora_ away from the door, nearly _slamming_ the small girl against the opposite wall.

“Let’s get one thing straight, _Alethros,”_ she growled, brown eyes glaring daggers into terrified blue, “I have _one_ warning for you.”

With a hiss of hydraulics Marlena knelt down, now eye level with the blonde.

“If something happens,” she began, “And we get separated, I want you to know something.” her eyes narrowed, and in a low voice she growled “If _anything_ happens to Catra, and she _dies_ because of you…”

The girl whimpered as her armored hand clamped down harder on the girl’s shoulder.

“Then _nothing_ will stop me from hunting you down, and turning your skull into a new _drinking cup.”_

The girl’s face drained of all color as she began to tremble in Marlena’s grasp.

“Do I make myself clear?”

The girl _violently_ shook her head in agreement, so fast Marlena thought she might snap her own neck.

“Good!” she smiled, standing up and once more guiding the small child towards the door, “Now that we got that settled, let’s go see Catra.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all ever just read a story, and the ending makes you so pumped you're like "Okay, yeah! I'm gonna write until 4am then only sleep 5 hours to upload as fast as possible!!!"
> 
> "Null" by Coeur Al'Aran.
> 
> I literally cannot sing its praises loud enough without writing a full length, multi-page file of word vomit basically saying "IT'S GREAT!!!" over and over again.


	19. The Armor

The steady, familiar _hum_ of the massive engines were as blaring as they were comforting for Kalix and his squad, relaxed as they sat behind thick adamantium walls.

A glance to his right and he could see Lily tinkering with her Heavy Bolter, burning holy incense and softly muttering a litany to please the Machine Spirit within. Hey pale skin took a blue-green tint under the different colored lumens of the monitors and camera feeds.

A glance to his left revealed Ragnar checking the action of his Heavy Bolter: double, triple and quadruple checking the charging handle, seeing how the feed works and making sure the belts were ready for use. Sweat was already dripping off his brow, falling into his green eyes.

The main gunner Atol and glacias-gunner Miri were playing cards. Kalix shook his head, wondering _why_ in Throne’s name Miri kept playing against her twin when she lost _every_ time against him.

Mostly due to cheating, but the point remains: the girl can’t play to save her life.

Then there was Vulpes, the driver. Her dark skin shone green in the lumen light as she reclined against her seat, grey eyes closed as she softly sang a tune that somehow cut through the clatter of noise.

_“The armor is hard, and our tanks are fast,”_

Kalix softly tapped his foot along.

_“And our men are full of courage,_

_The Polskarii tankmen are ready for action-”_

“Sons of their Great Fatherland.” He finished, voice scratchy and throwing off her rhythm. He chuckled when she flipped him off, eyes still closed but face drawn into an annoyed pout.

“I can have you flogged for that.” he points out.

“I can drive us off a cliff.” she counters.

Kalix nods, “Fair,” he accepts, “Very fair.”

Times like this are what him and his crew hated the most: the landing.

Too boring to get the blood pumping, too tense to truly relax. It was like a really long elevator ride, if that made any sense.

It did to him, anyway.

Him and the rest of the Division were already given their orders, their armor already triple checked, and equipment stowed away.

All that was left was to wait for their ride to make planetfall.

 _Then_ they could get to work.

_“Lighter 3-Actual, over.”_

“Thank the _fething-”_ Kalix was happy to finally get a distraction. Throwing on his headset, he brought the mic down to his mouth, “This is Lighter 3-Actual, go ahead, over.”

 _“Roger, this is Alpha 1-Actual, there’s been a change of plans.”_ Kalix cocked a brow, _“You and your section will break off and follow us. How copy?”_

“There a reason for the sudden change, Alpha-1?”

There was a brief moment of static before the person answered _“Us and three other companies have been selected to aid in taking a Cultist stronghold in the wasteland.”_

Kalix frowned. They were being deployed to aid in the defense of Hive Nirah, why in the Hell would a stronghold be more important?

_Something wasn’t right._

“Acknowledged,” Kalix called over the vox, “Lighter will turn off to assist once we make planetfall, over.”

Flipping up the mic, Kalix slumped in his seat with an exhausted sigh.

 _“Kalix! Kalix answer the Throne-Damned vox!!!”_ the usually husky voice of Colonel Lynn- _no relation to General Lynn_ -shrieked in his ear over the vox.

“The Missus sounds mad, Boss.” Ragnar chuckled, lubing up the feeding track.

“Shut up, wolf-fucker.” Kalix growled as he flipped down the mic, ignoring his sponson gunner’s offended squawking.

“This is Lighter-”

 _“Kalix I will peel your dick like a_ **_BANANA_** _!_ _!!”_

Alright.

She’s pissed.

_Feth me._

_“Why the fucking grox-shit are we being transferred!? Our_ **_home_ ** _is on_ **_FIRE_** _!!!”_

He pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling the migraine coming on. Colonel Lynn Nowak, callsign Sword-2- _she killed a man for that name_ -was a native to Polskarii-Prime, and if he remembered correctly, also a native of the Hive they were originally being sent to.

No doubt the new orders were driving her up a fething wall.

And since her command tank was one of the biggest in the entire Armored Regiment, Kalix decided to _not_ poke the horn-fly nest.

“There’s probably a good reason-”

_“A good reason for letting those filthy Cultists murder, rape and infect our own people!?”_

“Now Lynn-”

 _“Don’t you fucking ‘now Lynn’ me! You pompous, limp-dicked_ **_shit_** _!”_

“Ooooooh!” Miri gasped, a shit-eating grin on her face, “Get ‘im, girl!”

Kalix flipped her off as Lynn continued her tirade, spouting more and more swears and curses, all the while he just leant back, eyes closed and waited.

As a tank commander, you get used to constant screaming in your headset.

So he just calmly waited, fiddling with the cam feeds from his cupola’s periscope, fixing the image quality at the same time. He wasn’t sure _why_ the cupolas needed cam feeds when they had normal glass periscopes right above the one with the cam feed.

That weird purple cog-boy said something about _“improving efficiency,”_ but Kalix was of the opinion it was just some experiment.

 _“-Hit your dick so hard I break my_ **_FUCKING_ ** _hand!!!”_ there was a loud panting from the other side, but Kalix didn’t answer immediately.

“You done?” he asked.

 _“Yeah, I’m… I’m done…”_ Lynn panted from the other side, winded and no doubt a little exhausted, _“I uh… I’m sorry about…”_ she trailed off, voice thick with embarrassment and tinged with guilt.

“It’s fine,” Kalix waved off, smacking the side of his console when one of the cam feeds began flickering. “This is your home, and you want to defend it, I get it,” he took a second to turn some dials, hoping that would fix the issue, “But if they’re diverting _four_ whole companies out of the Regiment, then there has to be a good reason.”

He flipped up his mic so he could swear at the console without reigniting Lynn’s wrath. He heard her mutter something before the connection went dead.

“Stupid fucking-”

He was interrupted by Lily climbing up and nearly pushing him out of his seat, a small censor or incense burning as she began pressing buttons and turning knobs, “By the light of the Omnissiah I offer thanks, and pray you function most blessedly, o’ Holy Spirit of Metal.”

The screens blinked off, turning black.

Then in a second turned on, the image more crisp and clear than ever before.

“How did…” Kalix trailed off.

“Tech Wright.” Lily responded, swaying the censor back-and-forth to spread the incense around, “I’m to machines what a chaplain is to a squad of men.”

Kalix knew that, but it still amazed him just how easily she could make a machine bend to her will.

As Lily climbed down to her sponson, Kalix leant back in his seat and closed his eyes with a tired sigh.

_It was going to be a long landing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Man, it sure does suck being sick... I know! I'll work on the latest chapter!"  
> *Google Docs has stopped working*  
> ".....Okay then, guess I'll play some Warframe and Cyberpunk-"  
> *batteries die*  
> ".....GUESS I'LL READ, THEN"
> 
> And that is how this is both super late, and I came across a very fun and interesting fanfic by the name of "Bitter Iron!" It's a interesting She-Ra/40k crossover by Hexabeetle! I recommend checking it out, tell them I sent you, it'll be FUN!
> 
> Also, won't tell anyone HOW, but it may or may not have given me an idea. ;)


	20. Chapter 20

Darkness. That is all she could see, even as her ears sharply rang and her head throbbed painfully. It was like miniature explosions were going off in her skull, but her body was too weak to do anything but just accept the onslaught of pain.

She didn’t even have the strength to whimper or cry out.

Then there was a voice, so muffled and drowned out in the ringing that it was virtually inaudible.

As if she were underwater.

It sounded loud, almost panicked. Then it became shrill, almost like the ringing in her ears before she was roughly shaken, her head _spinning_ from the action.

It was even worse when she was violently _thrown,_ her shoulder painfully slamming against the hard ground.

And then-

…………………….

-There was a cacophony of loud, _deafening_ explosions as gunfire erupted all around them. Shotguns, Autoguns, Stubbers, and Bolters of verrying calibers. All of them combined into an orchestra of explosive _bangs_ as the weaponry unleashed their fury.

Steel blue eyes screwed shut as a stray round barely missed Adora’s head, even as she laid atop her prone friend.

The attack was sudden.

One minute Marlena was briefing her and Catra on what to do if they were forced into combat, the next one of their vessel’s engines were blown out, and they were hurtling towards Urthan’s surface.

Marlena grabbed the two, ran to one of the escape craft with a small retinue and booked it off the ship faster than Adora thought possible.

_For all the good it did them._

A rocket impacted their vessel, and it was only thanks to the craft’s heavy armor plating that they weren’t all turned to paste.

Adora got off with just a bruise and a few scratches, while Catra was…

 _Not_ so fortunate.

Being as waifish and tiny as she was, Catra was already being thrown around even _before_ the rocket. When that hit, the sound of Catra’s skull cracking was nearly as loud as the explosion itself.

She flinched as another round _plinked_ off the metal barrier they were barely hidden behind.

 _And now there’s_ **_this shit_ ** _._

When the lead started flying Adora immediately threw her friend to the ground before diving atop her as a shield.

Did it aggravate Catra’s injury? Most definitely.

Did it keep a slug from painting the walls in her grey matter? Most assuredly!

_Plink plink plink!_

No, instead they’ll paint the _floor_ with grey matter!

_Great thinking, Adora!_

“Skulls for the-”

A wet _shunk_ briefly filled the air before a man’s head fell to the ground. Standing above the now headless corpse was Marlena, sword bloody and Bolt-pistol raised. “Kill them all!” she cried over the cacophony of battle, “The one with the most Cultist blood spilt gets a bonus of ten-thousand Golden Thrones!”

And all at once, men and women clad in naught but cloth uniforms _cheered._ And with a fervor Adora had never before seen they charged forth, cutting and gunning down any Cultists in their way.

One woman got an arm blown off by a shotgun wielding Nurglite, and with a ferocious roar began _beating_ the Cultist with her Autogun as though it were a club.

A man was shot through the chest with a Lasgun, and with a _giggle_ he leapt into a crowd. Adora only noticed the three pins on his fingers half a second before a deafening _boom_ turned him and his assailants to minced meat.

_It’s madness….._

_Madness, and all for Thrones….?_

…………………….

Marlena couldn’t help but smile as her little minions threw themselves into the fight, stabbing, blasting and mauling the forces of the Arch-Enemy in the name of their pathetic God: _Money._ What a _wonderful_ tool! Point, say you’ll pay for it’s destruction, and the menials trample each other to see it done!

She didn’t feel bad for them, though- Oh _no,_ not at all!

_After all….._

The heavy clanking of power armored sabatons impacting against the stone floor signaled her four more competent minions’ return, both pairs lugging massive Heavy Bolters as they jogged to their destination. Then they began the process of setting up the heavy weapons, aiming directly at the mob of Cultist and menials.

_They left Catra to die._

“Open fire!”

The already chaotic battlefield turned into a verifiable _massacre._ Bodies exploded into chunks of gore, or were otherwise vaporised as the Heavy Bolters _roared_ with righteous fury!

And by the _Throne_ did she love the way the 80mm machine guns _sang!_ Like a choir oh Holy Hellfire upon the wicked!

Marlena couldn’t help it! As Cultist and menials exploded, she threw her head back and _laughed,_ “Hahahahaha!!!”

“Burn in Hellfire, Here-”

_Bang!_

Suddenly her vision slammed to the right as something impacted against her skull. Her vision went spotty as she spun, her balance lost to the momentum of the shot to her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the length, figured y'all would prefer that to waiting weeks for another update. Hope y'all enjoy, and I hope you stay safe!


	21. Crashing Inferno

Darkness. That is all she could see, even as her ears sharply rang and her head throbbed painfully. It was like miniature explosions were going off in her skull, but her body was too weak to do anything but just accept the onslaught of pain.

She didn’t even have the strength to whimper or cry out.

Then there was a voice, so muffled and drowned out in the ringing that it was virtually inaudible.

As if she were underwater.

It sounded loud, almost panicked. Then it became shrill, almost like the ringing in her ears before she was roughly shaken, her head _spinning_ from the action.

It was even worse when she was violently _thrown,_ her shoulder painfully slamming against the hard ground.

And then-

…………………….

-There was a cacophony of loud, _deafening_ explosions as gunfire erupted all around them. Shotguns, Autoguns, Stubbers, and Bolters of verrying calibers. All of them combined into an orchestra of explosive _bangs_ as the weaponry unleashed their fury.

Steel blue eyes screwed shut as a stray round barely missed Adora’s head, even as she laid atop her prone friend.

The attack was sudden.

One minute Marlena was briefing her and Catra on what to do if they were forced into combat, the next one of their vessel’s engines were blown out, and they were hurtling towards Urthan’s surface.

Marlena grabbed the two, ran to one of the escape craft with a small retinue and booked it off the ship faster than Adora thought possible.

_For all the good it did them._

A rocket impacted their vessel, and it was only thanks to the craft’s heavy armor plating that they weren’t all turned to paste.

Adora got off with just a bruise and a few scratches, while Catra was…

 _Not_ so fortunate.

Being as waifish and tiny as she was, Catra was already being thrown around even _before_ the rocket. When that hit, the sound of Catra’s skull cracking was nearly as loud as the explosion itself.

She flinched as another round _plinked_ off the metal barrier they were barely hidden behind.

 _And now there’s_ **_this shit_ ** _._

When the lead started flying Adora immediately threw her friend to the ground before diving atop her as a shield.

Did it aggravate Catra’s injury? Most definitely.

Did it keep a slug from painting the walls in her grey matter? Most assuredly!

_Plink plink plink!_

No, instead they’ll paint the _floor_ with grey matter!

_Great thinking, Adora!_

“Skulls for the-”

A wet _shunk_ briefly filled the air before a man’s head fell to the ground. Standing above the now headless corpse was Marlena, sword bloody and Bolt-pistol raised. “Kill them all!” she cried over the cacophony of battle, “The one with the most Cultist blood spilt gets a bonus of ten-thousand Golden Thrones!”

And all at once, men and women clad in naught but cloth uniforms _cheered._ And with a fervor Adora had never before seen they charged forth, cutting and gunning down any Cultists in their way.

One woman got an arm blown off by a shotgun wielding Nurglite, and with a ferocious roar began _beating_ the Cultist with her Autogun as though it were a club.

A man was shot through the chest with a Lasgun, and with a _giggle_ he leapt into a crowd. Adora only noticed the three pins on his fingers half a second before a deafening _boom_ turned him and his assailants to minced meat.

_It’s madness….._

_Madness, and all for Thrones….?_

…………………….

Marlena couldn’t help but smile as her little minions threw themselves into the fight, stabbing, blasting and mauling the forces of the Arch-Enemy in the name of their pathetic God: _Money._ What a _wonderful_ tool! Point, say you’ll pay for it’s destruction, and the menials trample each other to see it done!

She didn’t feel bad for them, though- Oh _no,_ not at all!

_After all….._

The heavy clanking of power armored sabatons impacting against the stone floor signaled her four more competent minions’ return, both pairs lugging massive Heavy Bolters as they jogged to their destination. Then they began the process of setting up the heavy weapons, aiming directly at the mob of Cultist and menials.

_They left Catra to die._

“Open fire!”

The already chaotic battlefield turned into a verifiable _massacre._ Bodies exploded into chunks of gore, or were otherwise vaporised as the Heavy Bolters _roared_ with righteous fury!

And by the _Throne_ did she love the way the 80mm machine guns _sang!_ Like a choir oh Holy Hellfire upon the wicked!

Marlena couldn’t help it! As Cultist and menials exploded, she threw her head back and _laughed,_ “Hahahahaha!!!”

“Burn in Hellfire, Here-”

_Bang!_

Suddenly her vision slammed to the right as something impacted against her skull. Her vision went spotty as she spun, her balance lost to the momentum of the shot to her head.

…………………….

Adora’s eyes were the size of saucers as she stared.

She heard the bang.

She saw the impact.

She saw her fall.

_And yet….._

“You _dare…”_ growled the monster standing before Adora, crimson plate brightly illuminated in the flashes of Bolter fire.

With a turn of her hips she swung her arm, Bolt pistol in hand, and after the briefest of moments:

_Bang!_

The brunette devil fired, a single mini-rocket exploding in a shower of rubble and blood as the entire fourth floor of a building partially collapsed.

_What?_

With a snarl Marlena rose, raising an armored hand as she gripped the side of her head.

_How?_

“Light that building up!” the Daemon roared, undead voice dripping with hatred and malice, “I want to see rubble by the time I get back!”

Adora’s blood turned to ice when tawny brown eyes turned to her, burning with rage and a hunger for blood.

A heavy ceramite encased foot thundereded loudly against the metal ramp into the shuttle.

Muscles tensed as Adora instinctively drew the injured feline closer into her grasp, her body subconsciously shying away from the undead _daemon_ before her.

Another step.

Another inch she retreated.

Another step, more aggressive than before as servos _whirred_ angrily, and once again Adora retreated. Granted, not very far, as the hard, scorched and dented wall of the crew compartment pressed against Adora’s back; as sturdy and immovable as Adora wished she could be in the face of this unholy _terror_ coming closer.

 _Clunk, clunk, clunk_ went the beast’s heavy sabatons, echoing louder than the roaring staccato of gunfire just outside.

 _“Escape!”_ Adora’s mind screamed, working overtime to form a strategy to somehow slip away with Catra in tow, away from this unholy abomination advancing closer and _closer-_

Adora froze.

Steel blue locked onto angry brown as the power armored woman stood before the smaller blonde, towering as her shadow loomed ominously.

In her fear Adora loosened her grip.

_That was all it took._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I got a question for all of you:  
> Would you prefer I take a week or two at a time to write long chapters; or would you be alright with shorter chapters?
> 
> And I'm glad to see so many of you like this! I hope to have more chapters out soon, in the meantime I hope you continue to enjoy, stay safe, and have a great day! Keep posting those comments, they give me life!
> 
> ^^


	22. Chapter 22

The roar of engines was as thunderous as it was numerous. Six hundred behemoths of plasteel, adamantium and Divine Fury drove forth, spewing flames as their crews rode across the arid, blasted waste of Polskarii-Prime.

The _23rd Khorian_ and the _105th Urthanian_ Armored Regiments have arrived.

Ash and sand swirled and spun as the utterly gigantic engines of the two _Tetrarch_ Heavy Landers roared with such a volume it could be heard even through the thick plasteel/adamantine composite walls of _Last Light,_ the Heavy Command Tank; and were Kalix unused to the deafening roars of the colossal beasts, he might have felt a small tinge of fear.

But fear was for the weak, _pathetic_ souls who turned traitor against the Imperium; and it was a weakness the tanker no longer had the ability to possess, heart already _pounding_ in his ribs. The long wait was _finally_ over.

_He couldn't stop the vicious grin that cut across his face, nor would he want to._

"Full ahead, Vulpes!" Kalix's ordered into his headset's mic, his voice a scratchy, low growl from decades of breathing polluted air, "Follow the convoy until the turn off!" Switching his attention, blood red eyes fell onto his sponson gunners Lily and Ragnar, "How are the guns?"

"They're workin' fine, Boss!" Ragnar grinned savagely, looking more like a Fenrisian than his true heritage would suggest.

"The Metal is Strong and my Machine Spirit is Eager." Lily nodded, quoting some techno-litany as she racked the charging handle of her weapon.

Before Kalix could even turn his gaze, Atol already answered "My gun is big and my shells are fething _massive,_ Kalix." His sister just nodded with a thumbs-up while tilting her head back. In her other hand was an eyedropper whose liquid was already being dripped in. _"Fething grox-shite!"_ she hissed angrily, "I hate this stuff!"

"Use it for fifty years," Kalix snorted, "You learn to deal with it."

Miri said nothing, just tossed up the glass to her commander before pressing her face against the cam feeds.

He ignored this, instead focusing on the phial in his rough, callused hand. It was small, only about the size of his palm, and inside it was a cloudy green liquid of semi-medium thickness; not exactly runny like water, but nowhere near as thick as something like syrup or sap. He still wasn't entirely sure what it was, but the cog-and-skull emblem on the front confirmed it at least wasn't _heretical._

Kalix knew one thing for sure though, even as he unscrewed the dropper and held his head back.

_It was going to hurt._

A sudden blindness took his left eye before a deep, _burning_ pain radiated, only dulled by experience and decades of getting used to it. The right eye soon followed, and once he was sufficiently blinded, Kalix blinked away the darkness. Where his eyes once saw a darkness only broken up by the lights of cameras, blinkers and electronics of the tank, now Kalix could see clearly through a dull green tint. A targeting retical floated in the middle of his vision, along with other readouts that weren't important at present.

His HUD officially working, Kalix leant forward to gaze through the telescope of his cupola.

To his right was 4th Company- _Callsign Rider_ -the least armored part of the Khorian Armored, on account of it being made up entirely of Chimeras, with the command vehicle being a massive _Crassus_ AAT. The modern marvel was as heavily armored as it was under armed, only having a quartet of heavy Bolters.

Further down was 5th Company- _Callsign Storm_ -who were, for some reason, a company made entirely of _Pulaski_ Pattern Light Tanks. As in tanks who were barely larger than a Taurox and only _slightly_ more armored. The damn thing was fast, _yes-_ But it was practically a _tankette!_

_Polskarii-Prime tank design was so idiotic....._

Then again, that may have been his bias as a _proud_ Khorian Heavy Tank Commander; and thus the idea of driving around in something that couldn't brush off a Leman Russ shell like it was nothing was just unappealing to the old veteran.

_Or maybe he was just thinking practically._

Regardless of his opinions on proper Imperial tank design, Kalix knew his orders; and Emperor damn him if he was going to be the one to feth-up the operation.

Checking his view of Atol's cam feeds, Kalix could clearly see what the main gun of his Heavy Command Tank was aiming at; and of course had control of the heavy Stubbers mounted on the turret. With his HUD Kalix knew the wind speed, direction, what kind of pollution was in the air and exactly how it would affect the HE shell that would- _very soon_ -be shot from the massive cannon. Atol and Miri could also see the readouts, and all the available information.

The liquid was painful, itchy as Sin, and downright horrid; but _F_ _ething Hells_ was it valuable, especially considering their battlefield purpose.

 _Last Light_ was an ancient pattern from before Khori was brought into the Imperial Fold some three centuries past, known as the _Bastion._ Its composite armor was dwarfed only by that of the Super Heavy pattern tanks, and its guns could pierce a Leman Russ with a single shell. The problem arose with the cost to _produce_ such a vehicle, along with its size being about ten feet longer than the Leman Russ making the- _admittedly slower_ -armored tank a prime target for airborne units.

But anti-air wasn't the _Bastion's_ purpose.

It was an anti-tank _hunter._

And as Kalix spied Alpha-1 turning off towards the objective, a predatory grin split his weathered, scarred face.

_It was time to Hunt._

…………………….

There was a soft _thump_ as a tiny body sluggishly threw itself against her lower half and wrapped tightly around hard ceramite plates, nowhere near the usual speed nor impact of a flying fur missile. Instead of the soft, stuttered purrs she so longed to hear, all that filled the woman's ears was a low whining occasionally broken up with soft, pitiful sobbing as the girl hugged Marlena's legs.

It was a good thing the pilot was already dead, because even though the crash had nothing to do with his skill, Marlena couldn't help but want to rip him apart _piece by bloody piece._

Mag-locking the Bolt pistol to her right leg, she gently picked up the pained girl and held her close. Once more she could feel her chest ache and burn in agony as the pained sobs croaked out from weary lips, resigned and tired. So weak and exhausted she barely even clung to Marlena, too pained to even express her agony.

Marlena _hated_ it.

Carefully reaching into Catra's fluffy ears- _she barely even struggled_ -Marlena pulled out the mico-hailers, and a sneer of disgust pulled at her lips. _Dead,_ she realized. It was unsurprising, really, since Catra had been using them for over a week without being charged; and Marlena was so wrapped up in the joys of finally finding her pet again that checking the tiny machine's charge slipped her mind. There was a metalic _clink_ as the micro-hailers dropped to the floor before being _crunched_ beneath her armored sabatons, turning away from the whimpering girl.

"Monika!" Marlena yelled over the cacophony of Bolter fire, "Plugs! _Now!"_

Not even a second ticked by before a small case flew in the air, expertly caught in Marlena's gauntleted hand. Opening the case revealed a pair of the micro-hailers- _called "plugs" to save time_ -fully charged and ready for use. The look of sheer _bliss_ that overcame Catra's pained, miserable expression sent a warm shudder through Marlena's heart as she began softly petting the weary kitten in an attempt to comfort the still injured child. Her slow, stuttered purrs were interrupted with gasping hiccups and the occasional small sob. "It's okay-"

_Plink plink plink!_

The impact of stubb rounds against Marlena's ceramite wargear had her holding Catra close enough to draw a pained whimpering, but she ignored her charge in favor of demagnetizing her Bolt pistol.

"Fuck off!" she roared in righteous anger, squeezing off a burst of five rounds into the nearest alleyway.

"Monika!" she barked into the com-bead, "What the fuck!?"

 _"Sorry Ma'am!"_ the power armored minion muttered beneath her helmet, _"We were preoccupied following your previous order!"_

 _This **one** time,_ Marlena promised, crosshairs turned on Monika's armored form, _Just this **one** time._

She mag-locked the pistol back onto her hip, turning back to face Catra and wince at her pained, tearful expression.

"Are you alright?" she asked, worry almost _dripping_ from her voice as she looked the child over for wounds from stub-rounds, "What's wrong?"

With a weak, trembling hand Catra slowly pointed to the side of her head, _"H-Hu-urts..."_ she moaned painfully, like the act itself physically _hurt her._

Marlena figured she could fix that easily, albeit slowly.

There was a _hiss_ as a compartment on left thigh to reveal several cooled syringes, each with a bright green liquid inside. While Marlena was setting Catra down and getting one of the glowing syringes ready, her other hand was busy feeling around the back of Catra's neck, moving around the loose skin before-

_Got it!_

Pinching down on the section of nerves in Catra's neck, the small girl immediately went limp and was like putty in Marlena's gauntleted hands. It was honestly kind of adorable how her tiny face scrunched up and her purrs became louder. Like a little fussy kitten being scruffed, which- _in all honesty_ -she sort of was. Catra even gave a small _hiss_ as Marlena slipped the needle into the girl's neck, slowly depressing the plunger and filling her veins with the best medication money could buy.

And Marlena had _plenty_ of money.

All-in-all she expected the concussion to be gone after a good few hours of rest.

 _The hail of Bolter fire told her that wasn't likely for a_ long _time._

Marlena frowned as she checked her ammunition reserves, not liking just how little she had left: roughly four magazines for her Bolter and three for her Bolt Pistol. Flicking up a cogitator screen on her left forearm gave her a comprehensive diagnostic on her armor, and her frown deepened at the charge on her armor's power reserves. Her vestments were some of the most advanced non-Astartes pattern Power Armor available, and that was _before_ the upgrades she paid top-dollar for.

Where most Power Armor's power supply could be measured in hours, Marlena's could be measured in _days._ Alas, with her hunt for Catra, she didn't have much time to fully recharge her armor.

_And she highly **doubted** there would be spare fusion-batteries laying about._

No, that would be _far_ too convenient: randomly coming across incredibly rare and inordinately _expensive_ batteries that can power entire Manufactorum freight-trucks yet condensed to the length of her forearm.

Regardless, the battery in her pack was _dangerously_ low, with less than a day's worth of charge remaining.

If their coms weren't being jammed, she _might_ have been able to vox the Thing and-

A fidgeting of blonde hair catches Marlena's attention from out of the corner of her brown eye, and she turns.

 _"Oh right,"_ Marlena realized, taking in the form of the shivering, terrified blonde in her sights, _"Forgot about her."_

 _"Adora"_ is backed against the far wall of the shuttle's interior- _only a few feet away from Marlena herself_ -with wide, dinner-plate eyes that look either panicked, skittish or jumpy. Her frame was twitching as muscles tensed and relaxed in an honestly worrying way.

_If she cared, that is._

Brown eyes narrowed as she eyed the girl, wary of her intentions. She looked ready to either run, curl into a ball or start throwing hands.

"What?" Marlena snapped angrily, "What is it?"

The shaking stopped, only to be replaced by a fear-induced stiffness, _"H-How..."_ Adora muttered, low and terrified.

"How _what?"_ she growled.

 _"H-How are you..."_ she swallowed the lump in her throat, _"Alive?"_

The woman stared down at the girl, and wondered just how sheltered she must be. To see something she doesn't understand and immediately seize up in panic and fear.

Marlena ignores this, instead tapping the golden circlet upon her brow, "The Emperor Protects."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished! Sorry if the end seems a bit sudden, I didn't really know how to end it without adding a few extra thousand words.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and keep on commenting! Stay safe!


	23. Chapter 23

The streets of the Underhive were silent, spare for the heavy footfalls of armored sabatons against the cold, hard mish-mash of ground beneath their feet. Plascrete changed to ancient cobbled streets, the bricks so worn down that the Aquila was non-existent; and then it changed to rusty metals, then cobblestone, then plascrete over and over again. _Some_ of her stature and wealth would find such a place horrid, and proof that the Under peoples- _vagabonds, Abhumans and other undesirables_ -were cursed and unloved by the Holy Father.

Marlena saw differently.

She gazed upon the controlled chaos of the construction and saw a practicality in adaptation. A bridge collapses, cut down a sign and lay it across the gap; a massive hole appears in the street, cover it in layers of thick scrap metal; a hab starts to lean, prop it up with a thick beam.

The Nobilitae find so much as a _chip_ of paint missing, they'll spend _millions_ to have the entire mansion or villa refurbished.

Marlena honestly _admired_ the practicality of the Underhivers.

Rockcrete dust exploded out from the impact of Stub rounds imbedding harmlessly into the thick, dense material.

_She also admired just how **durable** their structures were._

In an instant her enhanced joints surged to life, rocketing Marlena from her crouched position as she took aim with her Bolt pistol. Three Cultists were stacked together, advancing down the long tunnel Marlena and her retinue retreated to.

With careful aim Marlena lined up the shot-

"Get them!" cried one Cultist, her voice shrill and her pale skin sagging off her corpse-like limbs, "The Rot Father demands it!"

-And slowly squeezed the trigger until a glorious _BANG_ filled the tunnel in a reverberating cacophony.

The singular micro-rocket _tore_ through the first woman through her chest, leaving a gaping hole and pulverizing her upper spine as she tumbled messily onto the cobbled street.

Next it entered the middle man, a seemingly obese creature covered in thick pus-sacks and writhing tentacles. The diamond-tipped projectile pierced his fat, undulating torso; and with a wet, _meaty_ boom his bloated body _exploded_ in a shower of toxic gore and corrupted flesh.

The shrapnel of which tore into the last man, who's single defining trait was that he looked like a corrupted PDF Trooper from some backwater planet, bone shards piercing his rotten fatigues like they were tissue paper.

In an instant three vile Cultists lay in a bloody _puddle_ on the ground.

 _"Excellent shot, Ma'am."_ Zofia praised, her helmet's external speakers crackling slightly. Brown eyes turned to her, studying the armored woman by her side. Her armor- _a lesser model designed after Marlena's personal kit_ -was streaked in scratches from Stub rounds and Autogun fire, with only a few dents here-and-there from lucky shots. Slung across her back was a Bolter similar to Marlena's, though different in caliber.

_If she remembered right, Zofia preferred the 35mm Tigris._

In her hands, however, was a rather _beastly_ weapon: an Astartes Pattern Assault Shotgun. A monstrously powerful weapon that could _rip_ through Power Armor at close range.

"Thank you, Zofia," Marlena nodded, "Ammunition count?"

Marlena frowns as the younger woman shakes her helmeted head, downturned. " _Not good,"_ she admits, _"The most ammo we have is for the Big Guns, but..."_ she shrugs helplessly.

Marlena can't blame her.

Those Heavy Bolters taken off the downed shuttle were _massive,_ to the point it took two women in _Power Armor_ to use properly. The reason being the absurdly _titanic_ size of the ordinance, being 90mm in diameter and nearly nine inches long- _bigger than both a Guardsmen and Astartes Pattern Heavy Bolter_ -and with that sort of destructive power, it could turn a horde to mush in _seconds._ To waste such valuable ammo on one or two Cultists would be.....

_Unwise._

"We're on Level-Seven," Marlena said, mag-locking her pistol onto her hip as she strode forward down the tunnel, Zofia close behind, "There's a back-alley vox station a few blocks from here, we can try boosting our signal in order to reach the Thing."

Zofia nodded, her servos whirring and hissing as she vaulted over a bit of makeshift barricade left by the original inhabitants, either massacred or escaped to a higher level of the colossal Hive.

It was... _Disturbing_ just how quiet the massive level could be, the only sounds coming from either far above or below. Some levels were more calm than other, _yes;_ but a completely _silent_ level was basically impossible. If it wasn't the uncountable millions all going about their lives, then it would be the small manufactorum warehouses; and if not them, then it would be the gangers battling it out for land, recourses and treasure, or PDF purging sewer mutants, or Arbites and Enforcers!

 _Something_ would make noise!

Even the _brothels_ made sounds at seemingly all hours of the day!

And it was all just.....

_Gone._

Marlena was not easily spooked, but this.....

_This was **wrong**._

Striding forward along the cracked and pock-marked streets, brown eyes turned in her skull as Marlena scanned her surroundings, searching for any and all hostiles. The dead silence was unsettling, but nothing Marlena hasn't dealt with before. This was not the worst situation she's been in, and it would not be the last warzone Marlena fights in.

…………………….

Adora was quickly learning just how much she disliked the Underhive. The twisting, labyrinthine layout of the hab-blocks was as confusing as the city was filled with the stench of rot, decay and other putrid smells. The walls were burnt and battered from lasguns; dented and pocked with the impact of gunfire; and a thick, pungent, _metallic_ stench _burned_ her throat with every breath that filled her belly with a heavy, leaded feeling. The fact she hadn't yet voided the contents of her stomach was damn near a _miracle._

The strange mish-mash of architectural designs didn't help with understanding the navigation of this bizarre, almost _alien_ setting.

By the _Throne_ even the _buildings_ were confusing and horrid!

Rooms opened up to other buildings, hallways ended in bricked up dead ends, stairs went up into the ceiling with no opening-

There was a _door!_

In the _floor!!!_

_Who puts a door on the floor!?_

It could open, too! It wasn't some random attempt at planking over a hole, It _opened_ to a nine-meter drop!

**_Why!?_ **

What was the purpose!?

The home currently ~~stolen~~ _appropriated_ by Marlena and her retinue was just as oddly built, with strange reinforced rockcrete wall things- _Adora doesn't know how else to describe them_ -that were like short, chest-high walls for Marlena's retinue, or large, boxy pillars. Adora was no expert on architecture- _that class wasn't for another two years_ -but she was _fairly_ certain most of them weren't load bearing.

"They're cover." a gruff voice says.

Turning to her left Adora sees a woman clad in the same Power Armor as the rest of Marlena's retinue, with chin-length dirty blonde hair and purple eyes. Her scarred face is turned to Adora, looking up as she fiddled with her helmet.

"I'm sorry?" Adora asks. The only _"cover"_ Adora knows about is the kind you sleep under, and these rockcrete structures did _not_ look like soft fabrics.

Purple eyes roll in their sockets as she fixes Adora with a look, one the child was unfamiliar with. "Cover, shelter, barricades, _whatever_ you want to call it." she shrugs, "This is Ganger territory, lots of shoot-outs. Those walls and pillars will stop most weapons in a Ganger's arsenal."

"G- _Gangers!?"_ Adora gasps, "In broad daylight? Why don't the Arbites arrest them!?"

"Ha!" the woman barks, "You really are Noble, ain't ya?"

She shakes her head before standing up and moving along, hydraulics hissing and clicking as she does.

That... Why would that be _funny?_ Surely the Arbites are just as diligent _here_ as they are in the Spire, upholding the _Lex_ and keeping order! They were the Adeptus Arbites!

_.....Right?_

Adora didn't want to think about it.

She moved along, wandering aimlessly in the large hab they'd taken shelter in- _a "warehouse," they called it_ -and desperately trying to ignore the pervasive thoughts that flooded her mind, desperate to believe _something_ in her life was _real._

How much of what she was taught was actually true? Was _any_ of it true? Were the Nobilitae chosen to rule by the Grace of the God Emperor?

_Or was that just something they told themselves to feel legitimate?_

The Adeptus Arbites were strict enforcers of the _Lex Imperialis,_ the Imperium's sacred laws that kept order and peace throughout the Hives.

_But were they really?_

If Gangers could fight in _open warfare_ without fear of the Arbites, then were they _really_ keepers of the peace....?

_Is anything real....?_

So caught up in her thoughts Adora didn't notice Catra until a pair of soft, fuzzy arms limply wrapped themselves around her neck.

With a jump Adora turned- _not noticing how her limbs shook, or the dampness of her eyes_ -and pulled her friend into a hug.

If Adora were forced to pick a word to describe Catra since the crash, _"Addled"_ would be the most obvious.

She wasn't in constant pain- _Praise the Throne_ -but she was certainly.....

_Different._

Her gaze was hazy, and she didn't _"see"_ things so much as she gazed in their _direction;_ looking but not seeing. She also didn't walk, instead stumbling and shambling, as though her feet were weighed down; and she had trouble with.....

 _Everything,_ basically.

She was like a mix between a lost, buggy Servo Skull in how she numbly followed whomever was in the lead; and she was like a doll in how- _for lack of a better term_ -she often needed to be _dragged_ along.

Whatever she was injected with, it was some _strong_ stuff.

"Hello, Catra," Adora smiled, "What's the matter?"

Catra blinked.

She blinked again.

And again.

Then her jaws _slowly_ creaked open, revealing two rows of sharpened fangs.

 _"Bleh"_ Catra stuck out her tongue.

Adora.....

Adora blinked.

_What-_

"A-Are you hungry?" she asked hopefully.

_"Bleh"_

_O-Okay then....._

"Thirsty?"

_"Bleh"_

.........

 _Thirsty,_ Adora decided.

Hooking one arm around Catra's waist, Adora set about dragging her friend to one of Marlena's retinue to ask for some water.

She _hoped_ that's what Catra wanted.

Adora wasn't very fluent in _bleh._

She _also_ wasn't proficient in navigating the labyrinthine structure of the _"warehouse,"_ so finding one of the three remaining of Marlena's retinue was rather difficult. She made sure not to shout out, Marlena was _very_ clear that would be a terrible idea.

_For multiple reasons._

So she searched and searched, her friend's feet dragging along the plascrete ground as she continued to _bleh_ and _blep_ her drug-addled language.

Adora liked to imagine Catra was regaling her blonde companion with dashing tales of life in the Underhive, filled with adventure, daring escapes, and clever tricks.

And maybe boys.

_Every good story had to have a Prince Charming, right....?_

…………………….

It was an hour later when they were once more on the move through the empty streets, Marlena and the one with the shotgun- _Zara? Zorra?_ -had gone to some sort of illegal location, and contacted another shuttle. From what little Adora could make out, they were moving to the second team for extraction, rather than risk the flier coming to us and getting shot down like us.

Adora tightly held Catra's hand as they marched in the center of the formation: Marlena at the front, Shotgun on the left along with another woman with some kind of Boltgun- _Adora wasn't familiar with weaponry_ -while the two other women carried the remaining Heavy Gun on the right.

It was decided that carrying _two_ of the gigantic cannons was too much, and would cut down on combat effectiveness, so one of the carriers just had a belt of- _frankly massive_ -ammunition around her neck.

Or _something_ along those lines. The squad of armored women mostly talked through internal vox systems, with only Marlena speaking in hushed whispers into a com-bead.

Adora missed the talking.

The silence of the Hive was.....

 _Terrifying,_ if Adora was _truly_ honest with herself. There was a soul-crushing dread that filled her heart, and only the low, lulled rumbles of her friend kept her from freezing up. It was Adora's _duty_ to help Catra. She **_had_** to protect Catra.....

_But by the Throne did she just want to curl up in a ball and cry._

She felt ashamed of herself.

She was Adora of the House Alethros, _"fear"_ wasn't supposed to be something she knew. She was trained to meet fear with a saber!

_How do you meet the forces of the Arch-Enemy with a fucking saber!?_

It was unfair!

It was _terrifying!_

It was-

…………………….

Marlena raised a fist to halt their advance, deep in focus. She could hear something, but she couldn't identify it properly.

"Zofia," Marlena softly snapped, "Turn up your auditory sensors, what do you hear?"

There was a series of clicks and whirrs, before the micro-hailer in Marlena's ear crackled to life _"Gunshots, las-bolts, pla-"_

_BOOM!!!_

A _thunderous_ explosion roared to life, shaking the very streets beneath their feet, _"There!"_ Monika pointed.

Turning her gaze Marlena spied a billowing pillar of smoke and fire, black and fiery even from this distance.

"Move!" she ordered, forgoing stealth in favor of speed.

A brief glance revealed Adora picked up Catra in a bridal carry, running at a surprising pace. With a brief nod to Zofia and Anna had them slowing down to protect the children. Marlena still hated the blonde's guts, but the way she acted around Catra made her hate the Alethros a _little_ less.

_Still didn't like how Catra acted around her._

Honestly though, Marlena would have approved of _anyone_ besides the Alethros.

_Literally._

There was a flash of gold as a stub round _plinked_ off Marlena's head, pulling her back into the present as she raised the Bolt pistol.

There was a Cultist in front of her with a fresh dent in her rusted flak armor, turned away from the approaching trio.

_Good._

With a satisfying _crack_ Marlena ran up and pistol-whipped the filthy traitor in the back of her skull, _decapitating_ the Cultist.

A quick scan of the battlefield revealed the situation: the Thing had arrived and met heavy resistance, as evident by the blown out Chimera that was a smoking heap on the Hive floor. A small _army_ of Nurglites swarmed the shuttle, trying their best to kill Marlena's crew; and the blue bolts of the Thing's Skitarii-like rifle revealed it _was_ their getaway.

She snarled, fear fr Catra turning to pure _rage_ in her gut as Marlena levelled the Bolt pistol at the nearest Cultist. With a mighty _crack_ the Nurglite falls as a pair torso-less legs.

Some jumped in surprise, startled, and began turning towards Marlena as she squeezed off three more shots with _lethal_ accuracy.

"Light up those buildings!" Marlena roars over the din of combat, sure her minions can hear her, "Bring them _down!"_

The _roar_ of the Heavy Bolters was like an orchestra, playing their melody of righteous fury upon the blighted _filth._

Stub rounds harmlessly plinked off Marlena's crimson plate as she charged forth, switching to her and blasting the Nurglite horde in a hail full-auto Bolt fire. Limbs flew and bodies _popped_ as the explosive rounds detonated, killing both the targets themselves _and_ those around them from the shrapnel.

_Click!_

In a flash Marlena rolled to a crouched position behind some sturdy barricades as the empty magazine loudly clattered to the ground, a fresh one quickly taking its place.

Ammo conservation be _damned,_ they were getting out of here!

 _She_ was getting out of here!

_And that's all that mattered._

Out of the corner of her eye Marlena could see Zofia and Anna sprinting ahead through a cleared path, Adora and Catra not far-

_Voosh!_

A streaking ball of green, tainted plasma _slammed_ into Anna.

A gurgling _screech_ filled the vox as she fell, her right arm nothing but slaged metal and ceramite, with most of her torso not far behind.

Zofia _leapt_ behind the wreckage of a PDF personnel carrier, dragging the children behind her.

Marlena watched as the heavy weapon's team turned their attention towards where the shot came from, seeking revenge for their fallen sister.

_They never got the chance._

A spark.

And a second thunderous **_BOOM_** ripped through the battlefield, the shockwave so loud and so strong that Marlena was on her ass and her ears _rung._

_There was nothing left of the two._

Someone shot their ammo belt and caused a chain reaction.

 _"How,"_ she wanted to demand, _"How was this possible!?"_

All they've experienced up until now were a bunch of useless fodder!

_What is happening!?_

Marlena could see Zofia poking her head out of cover to see what's going on.

 _"Stop!!!"_ she shrieked over the vox, "Get back in-"

_It was useless._

There was a _crack_ as a burning hot las-bolt _speared_ through Zofia's eye, and for the briefest of moments.....

_Marlena could see through her skull._

Her last minion fell dead with a _clatter._

"Thing!" she screeched, "Thing pick up the fucking vox or _so help me-"_

A crackling static overtook her broadcast, and an emotionless, metallic voice spoke _"Being Jammed. Run. Cover."_

With a sudden _click_ the vox died.

_Piece of fucking-_

Hydraulics _screeched_ as Marlena threw herself upwards, the joints of her armor working _hard_ to push herself.

_"Right."_

Marlena leapt to the right just as another _crack_ of a las-bolt hits where she would've been.

_"Left."_

Again she leapt and again she barely dodged.

_"Left-Right."_

Marlena goes to leap to the left before suddenly changing directions, instead throwing herself to the right and behind the burned out APC.

Several _angry_ shots impact against the adamantine-plasteel composite armor.

"Fuck off!" She roars angrily.

Turning her head, the sight before her fills Marlena with both pain and a strange feeling of pride.

Catra is curled in a ball, softly sobbing while Adora presses against her, saber drawn and bloody. She's shaking violently, even as relief washes over her.

The body of a bisected Cultist lies bleeding on the ground.

"Good work." Marlena nods.

Adora vomits.

 _Yeah,_ Marlena's face scrunches at the putrid stench, _That's fair._

"Thing, report!" Marlena yelled into the vox, "Where do we go?"

Again there was static.

_"Run to shuttle-"_

Suddenly there was a loud _screech._

**_"WE WILL DESTROY YOU_ ALL"**

_"RUN NOW."_ Thing all but _roared_ over the vox.

Marlena complied, forcing the girls to once more run as fast as they could.

A Nurglite's head exploded from her Bolt pistol, before she threw the thing as hard as she could at another lining up a shot, caving it his bloated chest.

The _crack_ of her Bolter roared as she squeezed off a quick three-round burst into a group of Cultists.

 _"Almost there!"_ she cried.

There, just a dozen or so meters away was the shuttle, their ticket to salvation!

If they could just make it a few more-

_Plink!_

Marlena turned.

Brown eyes widened.

In a flash she spun, grabbing Adora- _and thus Catra_ -by the collar and _flinging_ the small girl as hard as she could.

Half a second later her world _exploded_ in a blinding flash of light as she _just_ managed to cover her face.

 _And then her ears registered the thunderous **BOOM**_ _of the grenade at her feet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done, and DAMN is it a big 'un! I knew this was gonna be long, but I think this is the longest chapter so far! I'll try not to take so long next time, I swear!
> 
> Hope y'all had a great Valentine's! Stay safe, and don't forget to comment, I love hearin' your feedback!
> 
> Also: 69 comments. NICE.


	24. Chapter 24

A painful ringing shrieked in Adora's ears as she violently _crashed_ onto the hard rockcrete ground, spent shell casings and sharp debris embedded into her exposed skin. She screamed wordlessly, the air _ripped_ from her lungs on impact and desperately gasped for air, all the while the ringing grew louder and _louder_ with each heartbeat. Adora frantically clung to her ears, pressing harder and _harder_ with each horrific _stab_ of pain as she shrieked and howled, tossing and turning and flailing on the ground.

_It hurts._

She tried to scream, but heard nothing but the sharp ringing.

_It hurts!_

Her throat _burned_ as she fought to scream, but no sound reached her ears but the ungodly _ringing._

_It hurts!!!_

Sharp knives _stabbed_ into Adora's brain with every beat of her frantic, throbbing heart.

_It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts-_

Weak, fluffy hands gripped Adora's shoulders, shaking her.

Steel blue eyes snapped open, red and wet from the fat tears streaming down Adora's equally red, hot face.

Catra was looking down at her, terrified, shaking her.

_Why isn't she talking?_

Her lips were moving, but there was no sound.

Adora felt her heat _stop_ as a freezing panic gripped her chest.

The hands tightly pressed to her ears shot out, shaking, terrified-

_Covered in blood._

_Why can't she hear?_

_So much blood._

_Why can't she hear!?_

_Too much blood._

**_Why_ ** _can't she **hear!?**_

Catra's shaking her head, tears rolling down her furry cheeks, and Adora can see her sobbing _I don't know I don't know I don't know._

_W-Was Adora talking?_

Adora can't hear it.

_She can't even hear her own voice._

Catra turns and shrieks.

Adora's body goes rigid, before a cold numbness fills her bones.

On instinct she throws Catra to the ground before rolling onto her feet. The saber at her hip slides from its scabbard in a wide arc as blood _sprays._

A body falls.

Adora can feel the sticky, crimson ichor drenching the front of her clothes.

_W-When did she-_

Catra points.

Adora spins on her heel and _plunges_ her blade into the heart of another Cultist, feeling the vibrations in the hilt as she slides through muscle and bone before pulling back out.

Catra shrieks again, and Adora turns-

Her body freezes as she sees a woman in tattered rags point a lasgun towards her. Towards _Adora._

_And there was nothing she could do._

She couldn't stop the trembling in her limbs.

The Cultist smiled, her teeth both rotten and sharp as knives, lips contorted unnaturally in a cruel, necrotic mockery of _joy._ Adora could see her begin depressing the trigger, and could clearly imagine the ominous _humm_ of the laser charging, could _see_ the glow building.

There was a flash!

Suddenly the lasgun _burst_ with energy, exploding in a fiery ball of death and shrapnel in the woman's hands. Well... Her _nubs._ Her arms exploded in a shower of bone and gore, burned and torn to shreds; her face _mutilated_ and naught but bare bone, only alive thanks to the foul corruption of her rotten patron. A screaming skull without eyes, or lips, with burnt meat _sliding_ off the bone, a charred _jelly._

Another flash and the burning skull exploded in a spray of grey matter and bone splinters, with only a cauterized stump of a neck remaining.

_W-What?_

A blue blur raced across her vision, and once more air was taken from her lungs, though it was less _knocked_ out of her and more like she got slammed with the force of a twenty-ton cargo truck.

…………………….

Stub rounds flew and Autogun's barked with vicious hate as las bolts cracked off, bright colors of death and destruction. Organics died screaming and they died silently, but It didn't care, nor did It have any desire to.

Its mission was clear, Its purpose obvious.

A quick lift of It's right manipulator and a thunderous _crack_ of burning ozone filled the air, and the Cultist's lasgun overloaded in an explosive flash of light and fire.

Readjustment.

_Crack!_

Arcing blue electricity turned the organic's mutilated face into nothing but a charred, smoldering stump of scorched, _weak_ meat.

Next came the small Adora creature, and even from this distance OC-11321 could see crimson ichor flow down her ears. Her lack of response meant possible hearing loss, and would require immediate medical attention.

_Plink!_

Immediate medical attention would have to wait. With swift, efficient movements OC-11321 turned and raised Its Arc pistol, another bolt of burning electricity turned the organic's head into naught but a smoldering stump.

The situation was untenable, Marlena and her retinue were either disabled or destroyed, and the path to the escape shuttle was already getting too overwhelmed. The organic term _"FUBAR"_ fit rather well, and OC-11321 loathed it.

Sudden spurts of rockcrete dust kicked up around Marlena's secondary ward, stub rounds barely missed the small Adora creature, and It knew Its role.

A staccato of gunfire rang across the war-torn streets, Its feet pushed off with thunderous footfalls as Its metal limbs dented the already cracked rockcrete. In the split second that OC-11321 stopped to assess the situation not much had changed. The ward was completely unaware of her surroundings until the very moment It _slammed_ into her at full force, picking her up in Its left manipulator, arcing bolts of blue lightning turning all in Its way to naught but charred meat and gore.

The wheezing and pained whimpering implied the ward may not have appreciated the roughness of Its method of extraction.

OC-11321 did not care.

Ribs could be repaired, destruction could not be reversed.

_At least not in organics._

Cyan ocular lenses turned in Its metal skull, locking onto the primary target: Abhuman Catra.

Heterochromic eyes gazed in wide-eyed horror and panic at Marlena's legless form being carried away. She's sobbing, terrified and confused, the drugs in her system numbing her brain to only understand the most basic of information: loud noises, too-bright lights, lots of danger, scary people. Her mind was so numb she didn't even react to a screaming Cultist beyond increasing the volume of her sobbing, rather than run or fight.

Blue lightning turned the woman's chest to mush, and she fell harmlessly, with Abhuman Catra without so much as a speck of blood.

OC-11321 tossed back the arc-pistol, a metallic _clink_ followed a second later as a long, steel tentacle gripped the complex gun in an equally complex manipulator. The mechadendrite already cracking off bolts not even a second after receiving the weapon, guided by Its many internal targeting and radar systems.

It can see a grenade in the air, and in a nano-second has calculated its trajectory.

A second mechadendrite shoots from Its back, simultaneously catching the explosive cylinder as It spins around in a tight pirouette and scooping up the Abhuman Catra with as much gentleness as the situation allows.

_Too much trauma to the brain will become irreversible._

_"Ma-arlena!"_ she sobs, small, fleshy manipulators weakly pulling at Its robes in a vain attempt to escape, _"Marle-enaaa!!!"_

_"Marlena will be repaired,"_ OC-11321 responds, _"You will see her again."_

The small organic seems mildly mollified by this response, hanging limp against Its cuirass. Shrieking sobs replaced with a stuttered, whimpering purr as the Abhuman Catra unconsciously attempted to calm itself.

_OC-11321 was pleased the small Abhuman believed Its lie._

The arc-pistol continued its lethal barrage as It sprinted down a path between two of the many habs and into a narrow alleyway.

_[WARNING]_

OC-11321 leapt down a corridor to Its right, narrowly missing a bolt of crimson that vaporized a small hole in Its navy robes.

_They are coming._

An approximate simulation of _"_ _annoyance"_ filled Its being.

_Too soon,_ It realized, _Not enough distance._

It kept running, even as Its logic-center continued to run simulations, accounting for hundreds upon thousands of variables, each of which lead up to Its final decision.

There was a _hiss_ of decompressing air coming from Its pack, followed by the gentle _humm_ of two anti-grav generators as two forms floated beside OC-11321. They were small, with dark iron-colored augmetics and manipulators; their skulls were a glossy, obsidian black and two glowing blue numerals etched into their foreheads: I & II. 1 was equipped with a small plasma gun on its left side and a Bolt pistol on its right. 2 was a medical drone, with a multitude of small limbs tipped with syringes, drills and saws.

A string of binary emitted from Its external vox systems, and the drones beeped in answer.

It stopped, put down the children, and knelt down. It could tell they were scared- _though It had no understanding of such concepts_ -and confused. The Abhuman Catra immediately started clinging to the Adora creature, who looked lost and confused.

OC-11321 lifted Its right manipulator, pointing to the twin skulls.

_"Follow them."_ it spoke, loud and clear, hoping the Abhuman Catra would understand.

OC-11321 had no time to find out if the creature did, already sprinting off at full speed whilst reaching into the navy robes and pulling out Its primary weapon. It was a Hellgun so heavily altered and modified that none could guess its Forge World of origin, and fit Its needs perfectly.

With the lower receiver in one manipulator It swung the folded stock into the proper position, sliding the pin in place to keep it stable; then It attached the upper receiver by the forward mounting-hinge before slamming it down in place and sliding the locking-latch into position. Next came the drum, which charged the Hellgun with a wonderful _humm_ of building power.

The gun was a thing of beauty, and OC-11321 would, will and has violently destroyed any who dared say otherwise.

A marvelous hybridization of carbine storage capability, long-las accuracy and LMG damage output.

_It was the only time OC-11321 allowed Itself to freely simulate organic emotions._

And It would need all the advantages It could get.

_Need to buy time._

If It could buy some time for Marlena's wards, then _they_ might lose interest.

Two organic children over the bounty of treasure that was OC-11321.

_There was no contest which was the most obvious choice._

A warning _blared_ in Its systems and OC-11321 dropped to the ground, sparks flying as It slid on metal knees.

_Crack!_ A circular hole of molten plascrete burned where Its head was but a moment ago.

With inhuman swiftness It turned and responded with a bolt of Its own, piercing the abomination through an eye and leaving a charred hole the size of a standard drink-can.

_Not that it did much._

The hunter was an _abomination._ An artificial being of black and dark, dirty purple; born of steel and forged for naught but the bidding of its dark master. A perverse imitation of one such as OC-11321 in the most disgusting, _H_ _eretical_ way.

_An Abominable Intelligence._

The machine's jaw unhinges to reveal a maw of sharp teeth that were a mix of saw and cog teeth as it screeched in artificial fury.

_OC-11321 beats it._

Fully depressing the trigger It unleashes a full barrage of crimson bolts, turning the accursed machine into a mess of molten slag.

_[WARN-_

It ducked right-

_CLUNK!_

An autogun slug _rips_ through Its left ocular lens, rendering Its vision down to 50% efficiency.

OC-11321 roared Binaric curses in simulated rage as It readjusted targets and depressed the trigger, once more turning another Abomination to slag.

_More time._

Once more It leapt before rolling and using the momentum to charge into a full sprint.

More las bolts cracked off, each one coming closer and _closer_ to OC-11321 in an attempt to disable Its function. It fired off whatever shots it could land with the Arc-pistol and Its Hellgun, internally tracking the remaining distance until the wards were _"safe."_

With each passing moment the organics became further and further away, _only a few more-_

OC-11321 crashed to the ground in a heap of metal and cloth, quickly twisting onto Its back to slag an Abomination on the rooftop above. A quick glance with Its remaining ocular lens revealed the reason: a molten stump where Its right knee used to be.

_Clever._

An Abomination rushes around a corner and It opens fire; but suddenly a second appears, forcing It to use the Arc-pistol to overload its chest-

_Crack!_

The mechadendrite was severed with a precise las bolt from yet another Abomination.

It quickly dispatched the one above before clicking the mag release and removing the spent power drum-

_Crack!_

An Abomination from down the alley hit Its arm with a precise bolt leaving the left limb limp and useless, barely held on by burning cloth and wires.

OC-11321 tossed aside Its precious Hellgun and drew a modified Hell-pistol.

It only got off three shots before Its remaining manipulator was destroyed with an autogun slug, leaving naught but a sparking mess.

_It was done._

The Abominations rushed forth, surrounding OC-11321 with weapons trained, ready to turn It into slag. With Its remaining lens It could see the Abominations begin depressing their triggers-

**"STOP."** A voice ordered, cold and distorted.

The Abominations closest to Its head parted, revealing an even more horrid monstrosity.

The unholy crossbreed bent low in observation, leant upon crude, skeletal augmetics fused to tight, leathery skin; the join between metal and flesh was a mass of bubbly, charred scar tissue even despite the age of the monstrosity. Insectile vestigial limbs sprouted from the creature's body and back; some small and others large, all of them dark, pitted steel. Dirtied dark purple robes hung loose, barely managing to hide the _"modesty"_ of the abomination's more _"_ _feminine"_ features. _"Her"_ body was an inhuman amalgamation of flesh and technology, designed with a calculated madness that passed the border of insanity and dove straight to unholy corruption.

_**"Yeeeeeeesss..."**_ _"she"_ hissed, satisfaction practically _dripping_ from the vox-caster melded to her mouth, glowing violet eyes _burned_ into OC-11321, and It felt sick for the first time.

**"You will do _nicely,"_** she crooned, leaning lower to run long, sharp talons across Its faceplate, **"Archeotech such as _you_ will bring me closer to my goal, I am sure of it! The sheer amount of _research_ I can perform....."**

The Heretek _squirmed_ in some perverse sense of joy or pleasure- _It did not know_ -as dozens of tentacle-like mechadendrites writhed and danced from her warped, augmented cranium.

A small _ping_ echoed in Its processor, and a metaphorical smirk nearly tore Its blank faceplate in half.

OC-11321 glared up into the glowing lenses of the Heretek above, watching the look of surprise as Its chest began to _whirr_ with mechanics. It watched as the Heretek was dragged away by her Abominations, kicking and screaming and _frothing_ as she reached for It like a stolen prize.

It watched as the nano-seconds ticked by, as searing heat and blinding light grew more and _more_ intense.

_And then It was consumed in the explosive fire of Its self-destruct._

…………………….

Adora didn't know where the Servo-Skulls were leading them. Hell, she didn't know a _lot_ of things at the moment, like in how much danger they were in.

All she could hear was the beating of her heart and the constant, maddening _ringing_ of her bloody ears.

If not for the occasional bright flashes of blue plasma, Adora wouldn't even know they _were_ in danger.

So she didn't question it.

She just jogged along with the Skulls, tightly following behind, her blue-grey eyes not _once_ straying from 2's path.

Honestly, Adora felt.....

_Useless._

All she had was a worthless szabla she could _barely_ wield, and that did absolute _null_ against anything that wasn't _charging_ directly at her. But that's really _all_ she had. Adora was no boxer, no marksmen and _certainly_ no Psyker who could shoot arcing bolts of lightning with just her _mind._

_Oh how she **wished** she was a Psyker._

_Maybe then she could be **useful** -_

There was a tug on Adora's hand.

Without hesitation Adora pulled hard, throwing her fluffy friend forward before pulling her up into a fireman's carry. Short, stuttered and terrified rumbles quickly became smooth, even purrs.

_For a brief instant, Adora swears she heard them as clearly as the Middle-Hive was above them._

Slowly Adora began to notice the change in scenery: the streets were less broken, somehow more pristine whilst still bearing the obvious erosion of use; and there were far less bullet holes and roughly-patched las burns.

And unlike the rest of the level, there were bodies.....

Bulging, bloated sacks of bile bubbled beneath whatever skin wasn't torn, ripped and _flayed_ from their bodies in thin, crackling _strips_ of diseased leather. Faces contorted in rigor mortis showed the horror of their agony, their _pain_ so intense that many tore at their own throats in an attempt to end it; finger tips worn down to the bone from _ripping_ and _tearing_ at diseased flesh. Eyes _melted_ in their sockets, turned to naught but a disgusting, thick _jelly_ that congealed messily in the bowls of their sockets.

Their stench was the worst. Heavy and thick in a way that _clung_ to Adora's lungs, burning like a flame all through her nose, throat and lungs and settled deep in her belly like a heavy lead weight.

It hurt.

_It hurt so badly._

Her hands _itched_ with need, with an instinct to scratch and _scratch_ and **_scratch_** until her throat was nothing but exposed tendons and muscle _and blood and **bone and SWEET SWEET DEATH-**_

There was a sharp prick in her neck.

Suddenly the smell of rot was gone, replaced by the smell of purple, which tasted like stars.

Adora blinked.

_What the shit-_

She shook her head, and again focused on following the Servo Skulls.

Only the Servo Skulls.

She didn't want to look at the bodies that hurt her eyes.

She didn't want to see the horrible corpses of those unfortunate enough to not evacuate in time.

_She didn't want to see the children with exploded skulls or snapped necks held in the arms of formerly weeping parents._

_She didn't want to see this horrid perversion of **mercy**....._

The medical drone floated ahead and began fiddling with some panel, and only then did Adora understand their location. Looking up from the atrocities around her, Adora could see an elevator of truly _titanic_ height, seemingly going up into the sky itself. At least, what _counted_ for sky in this horrid, accursed place.

The doors opened to reveal a mostly spotless interior, which Adora assumed was big enough for roughly twenty people.

_Forty if they crammed together._

As she was stepping on the Skulls were already shutting the gate behind her, and she couldn't help but feel unease.

A metal box as small as this.....

_She felt trapped in a coffin._

Catra started to wiggle and softly thrash, so Adora set her down on two wobbly feet. She still leant on Adora, but the rumbling in the feline's chest grew more aggressive if she tried touching Catra.

Adora figured Catra must be tired of being carried.

Looking around Adora spotted 1 going over to the elevator's literal _wall_ of buttons. It was at _least_ six feet high and five feet wide, with each button being about 20mm in diameter.

It was.....

_Dizzying._

One of 1's small mechanical arms was about to press the button labelled 0-5, one of the dozen buffer-levels between the Underhive and Mid-Hive, which Adora thought was a good idea-

_A streak of black._

Blue grey eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

A clawed hand pressed a glowing white button.

There was a sudden weightlessness.....

And then they were **_dropping_**.

_Down to Level 239._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Grimdark increases! Characters are revealed! Our Heroines are injured! Their protectors are gone! Hints galore! And oh my GOD was this chapter hard! I dunno what it was about it, but I just STRUGGLED to write it!
> 
> Also yeah, gonna be trying to add that sweet sweet Grim to the Darkness that is the Underhive. And now it's time to REALLY expose Adora to the horrors of Underhive life, rather than the mild annoyances of the Upper-Underhive. :D
> 
> Also, won't lie, trying to find a way to describe a Heretek and make it distinct from your average cog-boy is INCREDIBLY difficult, they're both fuckin metal monsters.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to anyone reading these stories! I haven't really been able to write this year, so I'm sorry for any poor quality. I'm hoping that this series will help me get back in the game, and I hope I can entertain y'all along the way!


End file.
